The Gladiator
by chameleon27
Summary: Chapter 9 is up!!!!!!!! Sorry for the extremely long wait! Kenshin battles it out with the real enemy and man what a finish! (warning: VERY GRAPHIC!!)
1. Default Chapter

This is an excerpt from a full-length fan-fiction novel that I am currently writing. It takes the concept of time travel from Michael Crichton's "Timeline", and the setting from the movie "Gladiator"…and of course, the skill of Himura Kenshin. It takes place after the death of Tomoe, but before the events in Kyoto. A college professor, Lance Thatcher, travels back in time with his friends Nick and Mark, in hopes of rescuing his fiancée. How she ended up in ancient Rome is depicted in the novel, but it's too big to upload on fanfiction.net, so e-mail me if you want it. It's written from a Christian perspective…not religious, but Christian…yes, there's a difference. Anyway, after being imprisoned, Lance finds out that his fiancée is being held as the prize for an upcoming gladiator tournament. The only way for him to get her back is to fight for her, but he knows he wouldn't stand a chance. This is where Kenshin comes in…good reading.  
  
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…As he finished that thought, he could feel a strange muscle spasm in his hip. The spasm stopped for moment, and then started again. Lance sighed and tried to rub the muscle. He suddenly realized it wasn't a muscle spasm. He brought his hand back up with the return device clutched between his fingers. Again it vibrated. They were sending a message.  
  
Lance quickly turned the machine on. The blue light of the LCD screen lit up the cell wall behind him. The menu appeared, but was quickly replaced by another screen. There was a text message.  
  
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2002  
  
New Transport Frequency Found  
  
156724165289817  
  
Frequency Year: 1869 A.D.  
  
Frequency Month: June  
  
Frequency Day: Friday  
  
Frequency Time: 12:00 a.m.  
  
Frequency Location: Japan  
  
Lance stared. Why would they send a new transport frequency? Then he remembered his conversation with Conway right before they entered the water dome. He had said that they would send any new frequency they found directly to the return device. But what good would this do him? He couldn't just jump to another time period by himself. True, it would get him out of his current predicament, but he couldn't just leave the others stranded here to suffer a horrible death.  
  
He wouldn't. He somehow had to find a way to get back to his friends and get Lisa and Jackie back as well. Then, he also had to find Conway. But as Lance stared at the bars of his cell, he realized that escape was hopeless. He wouldn't be able to even budge those bars, nor could he run from the soldiers when they came for him at dawn. He remembered one of the soldiers laugh as he told them that they'd be given a quick training session in the arena hours before the crowds would arrive. Apparently, they wanted the gladiators and prisoners to know how to properly fight, therefore giving the crowd a proper show.  
  
But Lance wasn't a warrior, and neither were Nick and Mark. The little training session wouldn't do a thing. When those gladiators would burst through those wooden doors, the three archeologists would be killed for sure. If only Lance knew how to use a sword. At least then he'd be able to defend himself. Or maybe the fourth guy, whom the guard captain had insisted to the dungeon master that they have, would know how to use a sword. It would be even better if Lance could see the other inmates and choose one to fight with them, one that would know how to use – he shot his glare back down to look at the return device. He stared.  
  
Japan.  
  
1869 A.D.  
  
The Meiji Era.  
  
No. He couldn't. The idea was not only ridiculous, but also suicidal. If he jumped to Japan at that time, then he might run into a group of samurai, who would surely kill him immediately. To make matters worse, he might end up nowhere near him. But still, Lance couldn't stop thinking about the idea. It was absurd and crazy…but if it worked, the odds would certainly be in their favor tomorrow. A moment passed. Lance could hear a small voice in his head, which he attributed to his subconscious, saying 'do it'. He was still for several minutes, thinking carefully about what he had to do. Then, with a sudden determination, he realized that this was a miracle sent by God. This was their only hope…he was their only hope.  
  
Lance pressed a few buttons and returned to the menu screen. He selected the 'Frequency Entry' option. He saw the familiar screen and entered in the fifteen-digit code. He had to go back to the message three times to make sure he had the right numbers, but he finally punched in the last digit. With that done, Lance chose the 'Machine Activation' option. He then selected 'Use Entered Frequency'.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Lance looked at the screen in frustration. He'd entered the frequency code correctly; he was sure of it. But the machine didn't do anything. Instead, the LCD screen was just a blank blue.  
  
A sudden and snaking sliver of light ran across the cell. There was another second of silence before two more bolts of light rushed over the device and through Lance's hand. He felt warmth. Suddenly, bolts of blue lightning rang inside the cell. The electricity ran over everything, including the walls and the black dirt. But the bolts soon focused on the man holding the device. Lance felt a little discomfort before a bright light flashed, blinding his eyes. Everything went black. Had the machine malfunctioned and sent him into empty space? A shimmering net of light suddenly raced up from underneath his feet, engulfing his entire body.  
  
The technician squinted his eyes at the flat lines running across his monitor. As he sat there, doing nothing but watching for return spikes, he looked up at the glass window. The woman was still there, still looking out into the dark water. Dr. Johanson was also still in the room, at the center pillar. The doctor was taking some notes, occasionally looking through the small window on the hatch. The technician sighed and looked back at his monitor. His eyes widened.  
  
"Uh" he mumbled in surprise. "D…Dr. Johanson?"  
  
"Yes?" Johanson asked as if annoyed.  
  
"I think you'd better take a look at this."  
  
Boris Johanson sighed and handed a metal clipboard to the technician standing next to him and made his way over to the man's computer console. He took a look at the monitor, and then realized what the young man was so worked up about.  
  
There were about twenty horizontal lines displayed on the screen, all of them white. But one of the lines was green and zigzagging its way across the monitor. Boris looked with confused delight. Elsie had noticed the man's strange face and had ventured over to take a look.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
"A jump," Boris said in reply.  
  
"A jump?" Elsie repeated with heightened excitement. "You mean someone's coming back?"  
  
"I don't think so," Boris said as he ran his fingers over his shiny scalp. "These aren't spikes, they're ridged echoes."  
  
"Echoes?" Elsie asked.  
  
"Yes, echoes," Boris explained. "That means that someone from your team is making a jump, but not back to our time. If they were, we'd be seeing high spikes, not small zigzags. This means that whoever is making the jump has entered in the new frequency and is headed for Japan."  
  
"Japan?"  
  
"Yes, that's where the new frequency takes you," Boris told her. "It'll be the year 1869 A.D."  
  
Elsie thought for a moment.  
  
"Will this drain the batteries here?" she asked.  
  
Boris shook his head.  
  
"No," the balding scientist said. "After the person's quantum flux is changed by the electric current used in the first jump, their body is still in a state of temporal influence for a period of two months, meaning they don't need any electrical current to transport them. Instead, the return device uses the frequency code to match the person with the time period. The device then uses its own fuel cells to provide a gap in the quantum flux, thereby allowing the traveler to enter the other universe."  
  
"Oh," Elsie said. "So you do finally admit that they're in another universe."  
  
Boris smiled in surprise.  
  
"You know Quantum Physics, Miss Cramer?"  
  
"Hey," she said in response. "I might be over fifty and a woman, but don't stereotype me. I hate that."  
  
"Oh," Boris said. "Forgive me. The truth about the WTT time experiments is that it is based on laws and principles of quantum physics. Quantum physics implores that actual time travel is impossible, since time does not really exist. Time is simply a manmade term to describe his lifespan. What quantum physics does theorize, is that at every conceivable moment, our universe splits off into other universes. How the team managed to arrive in ancient Rome is made possible by opening a gateway, via the quantum flux, to another universe. The team simply passed through the gateway."  
  
"Finally," Elsie said. "An intelligent man."  
  
He was sitting, just like he was in the cell moments earlier. The air wasn't musty or dank, but fresh and cool. The ground wasn't damp, but dry under his fingertips. Blades of long grass rose up through his fingers. He was sitting at the edge of a dirt road in the middle of the night. Chutes of bamboo were sprouting on the opposite side of the road, with large Eucalypts trees lining most of each side. The night sky above, though partially blocked by the canopy of tree branches, showed him hundreds of stars, each clustering around one another.  
  
Lance could hear the insects in the forest around him chiming their nightly chorus, creating an eerie backdrop for the silence. He looked in both directions and saw nothing but a lingering dirt road that snaked its way through the dark forest. Lance, seeing that no one had spotted him, checked the return device. If his history was correct, then the machine had brought him to Japan only a few days before the deciding battle of Kyoto. But Lance didn't know exactly where in Japan it had brought him. Quickly, he jumped to his feet. The night air was even more refreshing as he breathed it in more rapidly. He headed off to find higher ground. Maybe from there he could get his bearings.  
  
The dirt was hard on his sandals, giving him very little cushion. Still, he kept his pace. In a few minutes, he had arrived at a clearing. It was after he had reached the middle of the field that he realized he was on higher ground. The road must have led him across a small hill, for he could see nearly three miles in every direction. To the north, he saw only forest. The west held only rice fields, while the south had several patches of villages, their dim lanterns shining through the tiny cloth windows. The villages were almost a mile away. He had decided to head in that direction. Lance spoke a little Japanese. He might be able to ask someone where he was.  
  
Yet as he made his decision, the rational side of his brain kicked in. He knew that there was no chance he could stumble into this guy. Still, he had to try, and he only had a little over five hours to do it. Lance turned and took off down a separate trail to head for the dim lights in the distance.  
  
Lisa and Jackie were alone in a large room in the emperor's palace. It was a bedroom, one larger than any the girls had ever seen before. The walls were plain white marble, but were also covered in Roman art and decorations. Large busts of famous Caesars were on both sides of the two long walls. A bed larger than king size sat against the center of the back wall. Its bedposts ran to the ceiling, with silk curtains tied neatly on each side. The maroon bedspread was uniquely crafted, having quilted forms of chariots and soldiers.  
  
The girls were standing at the doorway of the balcony. They were admiring the view when the sound of marching feet quickly brought their minds back to their strange imprisonment. They looked back to the large entrance to the enormous bedroom. Two guards with long spears were guarding the doorway, but were now moving apart to allow a man in golden armor into the room. Lisa watched the emperor's prideful stroll and saw his arrogant visage under the golden wreath sitting atop his black hair.  
  
"And how are my two prizes fairing?" Emperor Herodius asked with a smile.  
  
The girls didn't want to answer.  
  
Seeing the girls' determination, the emperor frowned.  
  
"It is not wise to ignore my questions," Herodius said.  
  
As she heard the electronic voice translate the emperor's voice, Lisa already knew what he'd said. She thought for a moment on a good response and how to say it in Ancient Greek.  
  
"We are fine," Lisa said back to him, "Considering that we are being held against our will for something we have not done."  
  
Herodius smiled.  
  
"Ah, but you have conspired against the emperor of Rome," Herodius told them. "The priest Quintus has vanished from us and has chosen to hide himself from my callings." The girls remained silent. "Very well," Herodius continued. "If you will not tell me where the good brother Quintus is hiding, then I shall find him myself. But as a consequence, I am afraid your dear friends will be facing slightly more opponents than were originally intended."  
  
"But that's not fair," Jackie shouted.  
  
Herodius was looking at her very confusingly. It was a few seconds later that Jackie had realized her shout was in English. Lisa was sighing heavily and shaking her head in disapproval.  
  
"What strange tongue is this?" came the electronic translation in the girls' ears. "Surely you and the priest are devils."  
  
There was a moment of silence, until the emperor smiled and laughed.  
  
"But it is of no matter," Herodius scoffed. "You two will get your just rewards at the end of my games."  
  
He smiled for a few moments longer, and then turned and exited the room. The girls watched him leave and looked at each other worriedly. Their men were going to face too many gladiators. They'd be killed for sure.  
  
Lance was almost running down the dirt road. The cool night air was brisk and refreshing, but his feet were already starting to ache from the thin sandals. He'd lost sight of the village once he was a few minutes down the hill and now suspected that he was over half way there. The spacious tree limbs overhead let occasional rays of moonlight through their canopy to shade the road in a striped blue glaze. The chirping of Cicadas and the sound of his own footsteps were all he could hear.  
  
He continued down the road, turning a slight bend and then jogging down a straight path to –  
  
A sudden rustle of the bushes ahead of him stopped him in his tracks. A man suddenly slid into the center of the road in front of him. Lance was both energized and terrified. The man was wearing the traditional Japanese gi, long shirt tucked into high baggy pants, held up by a makeshift belt. The belt itself was either a simple rope or sash, tied tightly around the samurai's waste. But the most noticeable feature to Lance was the sword being held in the man's hands. It was about two and a half feet long, and razor sharp, as all Japanese blades were. An empty sheath hung from the man's belt.  
  
Lance felt his muscles tense and his adrenaline start to pump. Footsteps from behind him made him turn slightly to see two more samurai, both with their swords drawn, arriving on the road only fifteen feet away. The man in front of him spoke, making Lance turn back to the first ambusher. As Lance tried to translate the man's words in his mind, the interpreter quickly gave him an electronic answer.  
  
"You are an intruder in the Aizu clan's territory," the man had said. "The punishment is death."  
  
Now Lance was really terrified. All three men were moving in, step by step. He could hear the deadly sound of footsteps grow louder behind him, and the man in front was skillfully positioning his body for a sword strike. The seconds passed all too quickly for Lance. But a voice stopped everything.  
  
"You would kill an unarmed man?" came a voice from the forest.  
  
The three samurai instantly turned in all directions, scanning the trees and bushes. They peered into every shadow with fearful anxiety, turning this way and that. Lance too found himself searching the forest for the unseen person, but could have sworn that the voice sounded an awful lot like Nick's. No, it seemed younger, like a teenager's. But that didn't seem to matter. Lance was just grateful that the man had said something to stop the ambushing samurai.  
  
The men in the road continued to search the forest. The man in front was visibly shaking, and even sweating in the cool night air. He shouted something in Japanese.  
  
"Show yourself," came the translation. "Face us in battle."  
  
Silence. The men continued their search.  
  
A rustle echoed behind Lance. He turned to see the other two samurai also turn around, trying to see what made the noise. All anyone could see was the eerie blue shades on the dirt road. The trees above were swaying in the light breeze, making the dirt seem alive. But no one could be seen in the forest or the road.  
  
Something hit the ground behind them and splattered. Lance turned back around to see –  
  
He gasped. The men behind him also saw the sight. The dirt was soaked in a black liquid. The samurai who had jumped into the road first was sliced in half. His legs and entrails were sprawled out in the middle of the road, while his torso was lying in the tall grass across the road. Intestines and more dark fluid were still oozing out of the cleanly cut wound. But his assassin was nowhere in sight. The forest just echoed the scene in eerie silence.  
  
One of the other samurai quickly ran to the fallen warrior and stared at the wound. He anxiously scanned the surrounding area and then the forest. He wielded his sword in front of him, fearfully watching for any signs of movement.  
  
A shadow blasted past the man and entered the forest on the opposite side of the road. Lance barely had time to register the strange sighting before he saw the samurai before him drop his sword. Blood began dripping from his waist and his eyes rolled back in his head. The man's upper body toppled over and landed head first in the dirt. The legs fell backwards. Organs and blood spilled from the separated flesh.  
  
Lance saw the sickening sight and felt bile rise in his throat. Then he heard a raspy gasp behind him. He turned around an immediately stared.  
  
The remaining samurai was still standing in the road, but his sword was falling to the ground. A long blade was protruding out of his back. Lance saw another samurai, a lone warrior, holding a long sword. The blade was running through the dead man's chest. Blood dripped from the razor edge that had exited the body. The warrior quickly pulled out the blade, letting the corpse fall limply to the ground. He then swung his sword forcefully toward the ground, but stopped abruptly. Lance could see the blood fling off the blade. The warrior then replaced the blade back into the sheath at his waist.  
  
Lance could now see the warrior who had saved him, and was astonished at what he saw. The master samurai was a mere teenager! He was still facing the forest, allowing Lance only to see the boy's right side. The warrior had long hair that ran in thin spikes in front of his forehead and then was pulled back in a long ponytail that ran down his back. His kimono was a dark blue, with another white shirt underneath. His long pants were beige, and his feet were kept in soft sandals. The warrior's left hand was still on the neck of the sheath, bringing the tip up almost horizontally behind him. The handle of his sword was wrapped tightly in a black strap. Lance guessed him to be only seventeen.  
  
The boy didn't turn his head to see Lance, but just glanced at him through the corner of his eye. For a moment, neither man moved. Then, with complacency, the warrior turned away and began walking down the road. Lance stared…and then woke up. He struggled to find the right Japanese translation.  
  
"Wait!" Lance finally shouted in Japanese.  
  
The warrior kept on walking. Lance swallowed hard and began to follow the boy. The samurai stopped and stood in the center of the road, bringing the jogging professor to a halt. The boy then turned his head toward his left shoulder.  
  
"There are no more Aizu samurai in the villages," the boy said. "You should be safe there."  
  
Lance was staring hard at the boy's face. It was very sharp and defined, but also had a scar on his left cheek. It was in the shape of an X. It was him.  
  
The samurai began walking again. Lance had to say something.  
  
"Battousai!" Lance shouted.  
  
The boy stopped. He again turned his head toward his left shoulder. Now Lance had the deadly warrior's attention, and knew that he had to keep it.  
  
"I know you're a man with your own reasons for fighting this war," Lance said carefully. "But I have a reason to need your skills elsewhere."  
  
The boy stood silent, and then shook his head.  
  
"I'm sorry," the warrior said. "I fight my own battles."  
  
"Please," Lance pleaded. "I am not asking that you forsake your cause here. I only need your help for one day. Please, it is matter of life and death."  
  
"Your death?" the warrior asked.  
  
"Yes," Lance answered. "But more importantly that of my friends, and of my wife."  
  
"Your wife?"  
  
"Yes. Well, we're to be married in eight months." Lance almost began to cry at the thought of Lisa's possible demise. "Please, I need your help."  
  
The samurai stood still.  
  
"And why," the boy asked, "are you not able to protect her yourself?"  
  
"I come from a world where we are not skilled in swordsmanship," Lance said. "But now I must save her by facing many warriors with a sword, and I myself do not know how to use one. The only chance she has to live is for you to come with me and fight with us." The warrior was still standing quietly. "I give you my word on my family's honor that this is the truth."  
  
The boy was silent. He thought on the strange man's words. His thoughts then traveled to his past. He could see her face. He could almost feel her touch and smell her perfume. His eyes closed in remembrance of what he had just gone through during the preceding months. It caused him pain. But then, should he let that pain be felt by this other man now?  
  
"I would only be gone a day?" the boy asked Lance.  
  
"Yes. Just one day."  
  
"And I could help you save your love?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Then the boy turned fully around to face him. Lance could see the determination in the young man's eyes. The long brown hair and the scar on his cheek told of his legendary skill, the skill that had brought his name over a hundred years into the future. The warrior's hand was still on the neck of his sheath. The young man's eyes were studying the professor with intensity. The seconds passed like hours.  
  
"Very well," the samurai said. "I will help you save your wife." Lance felt his heart doing back flips. "Do we travel far?"  
  
Lance had to smile.  
  
"You could say that," he told the samurai. "But the trip will only take a few moments." The samurai was obviously confused. Lance could see the boy stare at him blankly. Taking a deep breath, Lance stepped up to the legendary warrior. "You see I come from the future."  
  
"The future?" the boy repeated.  
  
"Yes," Lance responded. "But we are actually going to the past."  
  
"You speak of impossible things," the boy said.  
  
"That's what I thought too."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 9  
  
  
  
Nick and Mark were both standing in their small cell. Nick was leaning up against the wall beside the barred door, while Mark took the wall opposite him. They were silent most of the night, though neither of them managed to get any sleep. Nick was still thinking of a way out of this mess. He kept trying to visualize himself knocking down the guards when they entered the garrison and then making a run for it. But he quickly realized that was nonsense. There would be far too many Roman soldiers standing around for anyone to find a way out.  
  
Mark kept himself busy by reviewing the historical findings of this life-threatening trip. Though he'd surely be killed today, he found it a relief to think about all the architectural structures he had seen. The new Roman buildings were so much more impressive than the decrepit ruins he had been studying before. He even wished he'd been able to smuggle a camera along to take some pictures. But now, he was imprisoned in a cell and most likely going to be killed in only a matter of hours.  
  
The dim and flickering light from the torch was shadowed for a brief moment, making the faint orange stripes on the back wall go black for a moment.  
  
"Psssssst…" came a whisper from outside the cell door.  
  
The two prisoners, after jumping from being startled, quickly approached the door. There was a hooded man outside, kneeling on the ground. He was actively looking to the juncture room to the left of the door. But as he turned back to the cell, he removed his hood.  
  
"Conway!" Nick shouted in a loud whisper.  
  
"Shhhhhh," said Greg Conway. "You want me to get caught?"  
  
"How'd you get away?" Mark asked.  
  
Conway shrugged.  
  
"Once a marine, always a marine," the man said. "I just talked to Lance. He's doing alright and we have a plan."  
  
"Well, good," Nick commented. "Now get us out of here!"  
  
"I can't," Conway said. "Only the dungeon master has keys and he's no where around."  
  
"But they're going to kill us today!" Mark insisted.  
  
"Not if I can help it," Conway said. "I'll go get Jackie and Lisa. They'll be kept in a prize room when the games start. I looked on the roster in the garrison and, though I'm not for sure, I think the four of you are up third. Lance's partner should be able to get you guys through the first battle and help you escape when you're being taken back to the gladiator's room. That's when I'll get the girls."  
  
"And just how are you going to do that?" Mark asked.  
  
"I don't really know," Conway replied. "But I'll think of something."  
  
"Wait a minute," Nick wondered. "Who exactly is Lance's partner?"  
  
"He's the one who's going to save your buts," Conway told him.  
  
Lance Thatcher was back in the small cell, leaning against the rock wall. He had just spoken to Conway and had already briefed the Battousai on the circumstances leading up to their imprisonment. The young warrior had surprisingly taken the impossible news with understanding. Now, both men were sitting against opposite ends of the cell. As Lance watched the boy just sit there motionless, he thought of a good icebreaker. He then thought it up in Japanese.  
  
"So what's your real name?" Lance asked the young man.  
  
"My name is…" the boy said in Japanese.  
  
"My name is Himura Kenshin," the boy finally said – in English!  
  
Lance sat up straighter.  
  
"You speak English?"  
  
"Yes," Kenshin said. "The same man who taught me how to use a sword also taught me to read and write. He was not only a master of the blade, but a scholar. He knew the language of the British sailors who were stopping at Japan. When he began to care for me, he taught it to me as well."  
  
"You're ahead of your time, Kenshin," Lance said. "In the future, almost everyone in the world speaks English."  
  
"What of Japan?" Kenshin asked. "What does Japan speak? What is it like in the future?"  
  
"Japan?" Lance repeated. "Oh, they still speak Japanese. They teach English too, of course, but they still keep their heritage. They've also become the world's leading technological manufacturing country?"  
  
"What's teknologikal?"  
  
Lance laughed.  
  
"Its very good machines."  
  
Kenshin seemed to accept that. But his curiosity got the best of him, as well as his heart.  
  
"What of the government?" Kenshin asked. "Has the power been given back to the people?"  
  
"Yes," Lance told him. "But that's all I will tell you. I don't want to risk telling you something that might change history."  
  
"I understand," Kenshin said.  
  
Lance nodded. The two continued in silence for a few moments longer until Lance felt his curiosity get the best of him.  
  
"So how did you become so skilled with the sword?" the professor asked.  
  
"When I was just an infant," Kenshin told him, "My parents were killed and I was sold to a slave trader. When I was six years old, our trade caravan was ambushed in the plains of Shinji. They had killed everyone, even the women who had acted as mothers for me. They were about to kill me too, except my master appeared and intervened.  
  
"He slew the thieves with only having to move his arm. He didn't even have to dodge their attacks. I thought of him as my hero. For the next ten years, I even thought of him almost as a father. He taught me philosophy and economics…" Kenshin paused, looking down at the sheathed sword lying in his lap. "…And how to use a sword."  
  
Lance took this opportunity to get a good look at the blade the young warrior carried. It was about three feet long, having an extra eight inches for the handle. The handle's grip was wrapped tightly in a nylon- like band. The weapon, though still in the sheath, was still boasting its deadly abilities.  
  
"My sensei," Kenshin continued, "was the only known master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, the most deadly sword fighting technique performed by human hands. It was even believed by many elders that the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was only a legend to bring fear to the enemies of certain clans who would boast such a skill. But my master knew the technique and taught it to me. I became very strong and, when I had heard of the pain that the warring clans were causing to the people, I wanted to fight against them. But my master had forbidden me from ever fighting in the wars. He said that by taking a life, I may have given the people peace, but cursed myself to everlasting guilt and shame…but I left anyway." Kenshin hesitated as he visibly pushed back pain and tears. "Now I have finally realized the vanity of killing…only now. The battle in Kyoto will be my last. I will no longer take a life after the war is over."  
  
"I see," Lance said.  
  
"But I will do whatever it takes to help you save the one you love," Kenshin assured him.  
  
"I will forever be in your debt, Kenshin," Lance replied. "Thank You."  
  
The two prisoners must have lost track of time, for they suddenly heard the sound of shuffling footprints. From somewhere down the dungeon corridor, a guard laughed and shouted something to another one. Soon, the talking became louder. The soldiers were headed their way.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to just take care of them now?" Kenshin asked Lance quietly.  
  
"Not now," Lance replied. "They might get wind of it and kill the girls before we can find our way to the capital. We have to wait until the girls are here in the stadium." Lance pointed to the black sheath in Kenshin's hand. "You'd better hide that."  
  
Kenshin nodded and stood to his feet. The sheath was hung on the outside of his pants by a tight rope that ran around his waist. But Kenshin pulled his sword high and then tucked the entire weapon into his pants. Luckily, the clothes were very baggy, allowing him to hide the weapon. As he finished tucking the tip of the handle below his belt, Kenshin could hear the guards talking loudly only a few feet from the door.  
  
To Kenshin, they talked in an unknown language. He knew that the Romans spoke Greek, or at least that's what his master had always taught him, but he had never heard the speech before. It was very strange to him.  
  
Lance, on the other hand, could hear the translation in his ear.  
  
"Let us take this one down to the room," one of the guards said as he stepped in front of the cell door.  
  
"But we are supposed to take two people down there," the other guard replied.  
  
"I guess," said the other guard. "Maybe we could – hey!"  
  
Both soldiers became strangely curious when they saw a second person in the cell. The heavier guard on the right scratched his head, while the tall one on the left looked at the young man with the strange clothing.  
  
"Who is that?" asked the tall guard.  
  
"Who cares?" replied the fat guard. "We can use him for the fourth fighter."  
  
"Good idea," said the tall soldier.  
  
With that said, he took a large key ring from his leather belt. It was filled with thick, iron keys that would fit the many different doors, cells, and rooms of the collosium. The soldier selected a key and opened the cell door. The fat guard motioned forcefully for the two inmates to exit the cell and head down the hallway. Both Lance and Kenshin did so, and were led to the juncture room twenty yards away. Once out of the corridor, the two men could see over a dozen more guards, each looking at them with crooked smiles.  
  
Then, Lance heard more footsteps, coming from somewhere down the dark corridor on the opposite side of the room. The soldiers standing in front of the entrance moved aside to allow two prisoners into the room. Lance could see Nick and Mark smile when they saw him. But they were also curious about the one with the long hair. The two men studied Kenshin as the soldiers signed the dungeon master's reports.  
  
"He's the fourth?" Nick asked Lance.  
  
"Yes," Lance replied. "He's Kenshin Himura, from Japan."  
  
"Japan?" Mark repeated. "What time period?"  
  
"I am from," Kenshin said in English, surprising the other two prisoners, "The year 1869. I have come to help you in your battle."  
  
Nick looked at the younger man with doubt. True, the warrior looked cool with the long hair, and even with the blue kimono. But he was probably younger than he was, and didn't have anything going for him that the three of them didn't have. Why on earth did Lance pick this guy?  
  
A guard moved in front of the group and addressed the other soldiers. Immediately, the group of Roman guards began pushing the four men up the stairs. They were led down a familiar path: through the dungeons and into the garrison. From there, they were forced down the tunnel. A few minutes later, they had turned a corner and walked down another long, slanted tunnel to the gladiator room.  
  
The room was much like it had been the day before. In the large room, Lance saw almost a hundred gladiators, big ones at that, preparing for battle. Each one of the muscular men were strapping on leather and laughing together in their little groups. Several of them turned and snickered when they caught sight of the newcomers. As the group of prisoners was led forward through the room, they saw the enormous weapons being prepared on the long wooden racks. Some were axe-like, while others were the familiar Roman swords. The rack on the right side of the room held mostly spiked clubs and mallets.  
  
The soldiers led Lance forward between the racks and towards the back of the room. There, he could see the familiar wooden elevator. Its platform was being lowered as they were forced towards it. It stopped at their feet in a soft thud. The soldiers then motioned for them to board the elevator. One by one, the prisoners stepped onto the sandy platform.  
  
The morning sunlight high above was shining a dusty shaft of light into the room, providing the main source of light apart from the many torches. Yet at such a high height, over forty feet above them, the silhouettes of Roman soldiers standing at the pit's edge. With a sudden jolt, the platform began to rise. Huge slaves were turning the cranks on the sides of the wooden elevator shaft, lifting the platform higher and higher. Soon the opening above was within twenty feet of them, and then fifteen.  
  
Already, the group of prisoners had to shade their eyes. The morning sunlight, though dim, was very bright compared to the pitch of the dungeon. Kenshin was impressed by the way these people, though living in such a primitive time, had used their resources. He knew that the Romans were an intellectual people, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see.  
  
The platform jerked a little as it locked into place. Kenshin's eyes adjusted and he looked up from the white sand. His eyes widened in wonder. He was standing in the center of a giant, circular arena. Several pillars were placed in a circle just in front of the wall, which itself was fifteen feet high. But above the circular wall, Kenshin could see and enormous bowl of bleachers, all acting as the walls to a giant funnel. The seats were all empty, with Roman workers making their cleaning sweeps around the stadium. High above him, long straw mats were being pulled by ropes and pulleys to stretch out over the seats on the eastern side of the stadium.  
  
Kenshin also noticed the intricate carvings and engravings made in the white marble. The craftsmanship and architecture were like nothing he had ever seen before. Once again, he found himself amazed at what such a primitive people could do. But he also realized that this was just their culture. Japanese had their own way of living, with their own architectural style and customs. These Romans a strong people, and he had to admire that.  
  
But he also understood the danger of it. Kenshin was standing with Lance and his two friends, but around them were a dozen soldiers. Each guard was wearing the same leather and steel armor. Some carried spears, while other carried what appeared to him to be daggers. The soldiers were standing about thirty feet away from them, surrounding them in a wide circle.  
  
From somewhere behind the guards, a strong voice filled the air.  
  
"So these are the players today?" came the translation to those who had interpreters.  
  
Lance had thought that the voice sounded familiar, and found his assumption to be correct. Two soldiers moved to the side to let a strong, muscular centurion into the circle. His armor was polished silver, shining brightly in the rising sun. He had blonde hair, but it was barely visible under his shiny helmet, which had a long, Mohawk-shaped plume down the center of the helmet. Lance recognized the man as the one who had barged into the room at the temple. He was the one who had ordered them to be taken prisoner.  
  
"They are a common bunch are they not?" the centurion said. The men around them laughed at the comment. Kenshin kept a firm expression while the soldier continued his little speech. "Let us give them each a sword and see what kind of filth they really are."  
  
Instantly, several guards had brought out four Roman swords and threw them at the prisoners' feet. The centurion simply pointed to the weapons and smiled. Lance sighed and bent down. He gripped one of the swords by the handle and stood to his feet. Nick and Mark did the same. Kenshin, however, just stared. He stood still for an awkward moment and then picked up the sword.  
  
It was rather heavy, but extremely short. The blade was only a foot and a half long! He turned the blade over and over, but kept looking at the strange weapon with disgust. Kenshin then turned and looked at Lance.  
  
"Is this what the Romans call a sword?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Lance just shrugged and nodded his head. Again Kenshin looked down at the short blade. He couldn't believe that anyone would ever trust their life to a foolish weapon like this. But then, these people didn't believe in the honor of the warrior, or of that of a true duel or battle. Their ways were different from his, and he had to accept that.  
  
"No wonder their empire falls," Kenshin said to the three men standing with him.  
  
The centurion was not amused by the prisoners' little discussion. He snapped his fingers and shouted something to several soldiers standing by the tunnel entrance on the far wall of the arena. The soldiers nodded quickly and entered the blackness of the tunnel. Several seconds later, the group of prisoners could see the soldiers emerge, each pushing a wooden practice dummy. The dummy was life size, though primitively carved. It had arms and legs chiseled from solid Lebanon. In another minute, the soldiers had set the dummies up in a row with seven feet between each piece of wood. They were braced with more wooden beams, which were fitted onto a small cart with wheels.  
  
"The sword," the centurion shouted to the prisoners, "is the deadliest of all weapons ever created by man." Kenshin agreed, but had doubts since rifles were now becoming popular in Japan. "Use it to slice off a limb or stab through a person's chest. Do not swing it wildly at a person's side, for the strike will only damage the arm. You must make a killing blow." The Roman pointed to the dummies. "Strike to kill."  
  
All four men remained still. Lance could see the centurion's face begin to turn red with anger, and chose to appease him for the moment. He walked toward the nearest dummy, which was the last one on the right. Nick, Mark, and Kenshin watched as Lance approached the wooden person. Nick almost laughed when Lance addressed it like he was about to hit a baseball. Lance grunted and swung the small blade as hard as he could, managing to cut of the arm and bang the blade off the dummy's side.  
  
The centurion shook his head and cursed at Lance.  
  
"No!" the Roman shouted. "Do not swing at the side. Either thrust it into the dummy or aim for the head." He looked at Mark. "You go next."  
  
Mark hesitated, and then approached the dummy next to Lance's. He looked at the woodenhead and gauged what force he would need. He brought the heavy sword around his body and, with a growl, swung it toward the head. The blade never struck anything, making the momentum of the swinging sword twirl Mark around. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. The centurion nearly lost his temper again, and angrily gestured for Nick to try.  
  
Nick took a deep breath and walked up to the third dummy. The wooden face seemed to smile back at him, mocking him. But he had to pull it together and put on a good show. If anything, this might make him fell a little more at ease when fighting a real person. Lance failed at the side, while Mark didn't even hit the head. Nick decided to go for the chest, like the centurion had said. He stepped back a few steps, and prepared himself. With a loud cry, he lunged forward, stabbing the heavy sword towards the center of the dummy.  
  
Thud.  
  
Nick had his eyes closed. He opened them to see his blade sticking only two inches into the wood. With ease, he pulled out the tip of the sword. Now he could hear more swearing in Greek from behind him.  
  
"Does any of these weaklings know how to even use their own fists?" the centurion screamed. "How are we to make for a good show if we have no one who can fight?"  
  
Kenshin was still staring at the small sword. It was too short to be of any use in a battle, but at least it wasn't dull. Though not even close to his own blade, the sword was sharp enough to do what he wanted. He slowly began walking towards the last dummy. The three prisoners turned and watched the young warrior approach the wooden person. The centurion was sighing and putting his hands on his waist as he watched the boy stand in front of the dummy.  
  
Kenshin stood three feet away from the wood. He simply stared at the ridiculous image and shook his head. Then with a complacent slowness, brought his hand up and around his left arm. His body was still in the same position, but Kenshin had used his right arm to bring the sword up to chest level. Then, almost invisibly, he swung his arm at blinding speed to point to his right, straight away from his shoulder. The dummy didn't move. The centurion behind him growled.  
  
Kenshin turned around and began walking back to where the platform had brought them. He threw the tip of the blade into the covered wood and stood silently. The centurion was looking at him in anger, with a face as red as a turnip. He was about to shout at the strangely dressed boy when he heard a thud. Soldiers were murmuring and pointing to the dummies. The centurion turned around to see only half a dummy standing. The top half was lying on the ground in front of it, while the arms were at different angles on the ground beside it. The wood was sliced cleanly and evenly.  
  
Nick now knew why Lance had picked this guy. Mark was smiling, for he could see that they actually had a real warrior fighting with them. Lance had seen Kenshin in action before, but he was still amazed. The centurion, on the other hand, was finally speechless. Never before had he seen any slave or gladiator do anything like that. He stood straight and smiled.  
  
"Ah," the centurion commented. "It appears that we may have a good show after all."  
  
Lisa and Jackie were walking in the center of their armed escorts. Over a dozen Roman soldiers were taking them from their room in the palace to the backside of the enormous capital building. The morning had come all too quickly for the two women, and now the gruesome thought of what the day might hold was weighing heavily on their minds. Even as they stepped out of the huge back entrance and into the warm morning sunlight, they felt chills just thinking about it.  
  
In front of them, and running almost a hundred yards, was a long, marble staircase that led to the emperor's private entrance. Lisa could recall from her studies on ancient Rome that the Caesars would often keep this heavily guarded route in case of emergencies or if any threat would arise. The stairs were actually only fifteen feet wide, miniature compared to the steps of the building's front entrance. But the stairs were very heavily guarded, having almost a hundred armed soldiers standing on top of the stonewalls. Popper trees and ferns were grown along the descending stairs until the base of the staircase.  
  
When the girls had been forced down the last step, the marble walls gave way to a small square, where a chariot was waiting. The horse was ornately decorated with maroon cloth and golden lacing. The chariot was made of silver and ivory, with a golden trim. Standing in the four-foot bed was a driver and an armed soldier. When Lisa felt the guard behind her push her forward, the obvious thing to do was to approach the chariot.  
  
"Did you enjoy your accommodations?" came a familiar voice from behind them.  
  
The girls turned to see the soldiers around them bow their heads and salute the man coming down the steps. The shimmering, golden armor and wreath sitting atop the man's had gave away his identity.  
  
"I do hope it suited you well," Herodius said as he reached the base of the stairs. "For I doubt the winner of the tournament will be living in such a house…" The emperor smiled deviously. "…And nor will he be apt to treat his women with such courtesy."  
  
Lisa was silent, though she thought about saying a thing or two in their defense. But she couldn't help but feel an unavoidable sense of dread. What if they had to watch their friends, and her husband-to-be, get slaughtered? What if they were given to a bloodthirsty, filthy gladiator to be ravaged? No. She couldn't think about such things. God would bring her out of this. She just had to trust him.  
  
Seeing that the two women didn't have anything to say to him, the emperor motioned for the soldiers to put the girls on the chariot. Two big men began to lead Lisa to the chariot, when another, more-articulately dressed chariot arrived from a street on the left side of the square. Everyone watched as the shining chariot pulled around the first cart and took the lead position.  
  
Herodius immediately took his spot in the first chariot, while the girls were forced onto the second. Almost as soon as Jackie got her footing on the chariot's hard flooring, the driver started moving the horse. They were off, off to see the games, and the death.  
  
In the gladiator room, every huge warrior was preparing for battle. They were being fitted with leather strapping, as well as testing the weapons for their best choice. For the most part, the gladiators that had been on the winning squad, the ones who were actually workers employed by the emperor due to their skills and strength, kept to the left side of the room. The fighters who had been chosen to face those burly warriors in battle were on the right side of the room.  
  
Most of these fighters were also trying on leather armor and metal helmets. They were of all physical conditions, from fat to anorexic. The strong gladiators on the other side of the room laughed and pointed as they surveyed their future prey. They made jests and mocked the smaller fighters, and stared down the stronger ones. Probably the biggest difference in the two types of fighters was the fact that the strong gladiators were the ones who had been trained to fight, and to kill. They were the ones who the emperor had chosen to be the victors, and their odds were always stacked. In fact, the biggest complaint amongst the strong gladiators was the fact that some of them could never even get a chance to swing a sword at someone before the other gladiators would kill them all.  
  
But while the strong men were prideful of their strength and the smaller squad cowered in fear, there was a small group of fighters leaning quietly against the right wall. The dim lighting from the torches cast an orange shade against their faces. One of the men was a young warrior with long hair. Some of the other fighters would occasionally glance at the scar on the young man's cheek.  
  
"So we will be brought up to the arena before the gladiators?" Kenshin asked quietly.  
  
"That's what the custom always was," Lance said to him. "And it's what they did yesterday."  
  
The young warrior was silent in thought for a moment.  
  
"All right," Kenshin finally replied. "If we do arrive first, then you three will head for the far wall of the arena. I will take care of the gladiators myself. You are not prepared to fight in such a place, but you shouldn't need to. I should be able to deal with all the gladiators before they reach you."  
  
"Are you insane," Nick said in a loud whisper. "That's suicide. You can't handle thirty gladiators at one time."  
  
"If the gladiators are in the arena first," Kenshin continued as if he hadn't heard the other man, "Then immediately follow me out and then turn sharply and run along the arena walls. If you can manage to evade the gladiators long enough for me to take out each one, then we would still stand a chance."  
  
Now Nick was looking at Mark for support. But he found none, for Mark was in no hurry to argue with the brave young man standing on the other side of their small group. Nick turned back and looked at Lance, but again found no sympathy. Everyone else believed in this kid. He stared at the youth. Something was definitely different about the samurai, but how could one small person do so much? Yet, as he looked at the silent warrior, Nick saw a determination that he hadn't seen in anyone before, past or present. Perhaps there really was something to this young warrior.  
  
Elsie Cramer was standing in the control room of WTT with Boris Johanson. She had stayed in the facility overnight and was now wearing the spare set of clothes she had brought along. The night didn't hold much sleep for her, but at least she managed a few hours. Now, she was sipping coffee and looking through the thick, glass window that lined the front of the room.  
  
The water chamber was dark, lit only by dim floodlights on every other wall. The steel dome, which had seemed so impressive earlier, was even dimmer than she had remembered. Still, the situation was just as incredible as it was to her yesterday. But today held a strange tension. It was something she couldn't put her finger on, but somehow she knew that it would not be a good day for those trapped back in time.  
  
Elsie took another sip of her coffee.  
  
Though she did not consider herself a religious person, she couldn't help but remember all that Lance and Lisa had told her over the last few years. She knew that they were Christians, but she just couldn't agree with the possibility of the existence of God. To her, if something couldn't be scientifically proven, then it wasn't fact. But she still couldn't stop dwelling on the words of her friends. For a moment, she even had the urge to pray for them.  
  
"Miss Cramer," Boris said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you."  
  
"Oh," Elsie sighed. "No. I'm just wishing that my friends were back safe and sound; that maybe this nightmare could end."  
  
"It will end, Miss Cramer," Boris told her. "One way or another, we will find out tomorrow how this horrible story will conclude." Boris leaned closer and whispered, "Whitely wants to make his jump at Eleven O'clock. I'm going to stall him and hold him back as much as I can. If I can at least hold him off until One O'clock, then we may be rid of him for good."  
  
Elsie raised an eyebrow.  
  
"How's that?" she asked him.  
  
"I have some friends in the military," Boris said. "And I also have friends in the Pentagon. I've sent a coded message to them through the facility's satellite array. With any luck, I should get a response later this evening."  
  
"Will they shut Whitely down for good?" Elsie asked him.  
  
"Most likely," Boris answered. "The time experiments take more funds than Whitely has available. He's been swindling money out of both the US government and the French government for years. I've included that information in my message. If they receive the message, and if they believe me, then we should be expecting a SEAL team tomorrow afternoon. Don't worry. I told them not to hurt any scientists or technicians. They should be able to only have to deal with Whitely's security patrols."  
  
Elsie felt a little hope rise.  
  
"Not bad for an old doctor," Elsie said with a smile.  
  
Boris smiled back and said, "Don't stereotype me. I hate that."  
  
Greg Conway waited until the guard had his back turned. He had been hiding in the collosium ever since his conversation with Lance and the others. For most of the morning, he'd been keeping silent in one of the storerooms on the lower terminal that ran around the outside of the arena wall. The stands were right above him and he could already hear the people beginning to swarm into the giant stadium. The room itself wasn't very noisy, considering all that it held was wooden crates and spare chariot wheels.  
  
But a few minutes earlier, a guard had come in to take a quiet drinking brake. When the Roman soldier had taken out the goatskin pouch and opened the cork, Conway could smell the fermented grape juice as the putrid fragrance filled the entire room. The soldier took one of the wooden crates, not noticing the man still hiding behind the rest of them, and sat down to rest. That was just the opportunity that Conway was looking for.  
  
Greg snuck up behind the drinking man without a sound. He could feel his adrenaline start pumping and his marine training kicking in. He saw his time to strike. As quickly as possible, Conway wrapped both powerful arms around the soldier's head and jerked it sideways. Before the guard could even retaliate, his head fell sideways, followed by his body. The quiet room was briefly filled with a cracking sound when the neck broke, and then registered a thud on the ground.  
  
Conway was about to head for the door when he had an idea. He looked back at the dead soldier lying on the ground.  
  
The emperor walked out of the marble tunnel and onto the empirical porch. The flowing drapes from the overhang above swayed back and forth, blending with the waving motion of the energized crowd that had now filled the stadium. Herodius walked as dignified as possible to the front railing. He then waved to the crowd, which waved back to him and cheered.  
  
From behind him, Lisa and Jackie were brought forward to stand beside him. The crowd cheered again. Jackie found herself feeling embarrassed as well as terrified. She knew that her garments were just robes, and very easy to tear off. Her mind filled with the horrible image of what might happen when a gladiator would win she and Lisa. The older girl beside her was also thinking the same thing. But Lisa had something that kept her going. She had her faith. Even now, she was praying that God would miraculously provide them with a way of escape.  
  
Yet even her hopes were dropping with the jeering and mocking laughter of the crowd. The stands were filled with almost fifty thousand Romans, all waiting impatiently for violence and bloodshed. That brought her gaze to the white sand of the circular arena. She saw the many pillars which stood around the arena, all of them at equal distances from the outer wall. The very center of the battlefield had a dark square. It looked to her as though someone had cut a cube out of the rock. But as she looked closer, Lisa could see that it was the platform that most scholars now believed the collosium to have had. They had discovered a large area of hollow ground underneath the arena in modern times, and had surmised that the collapsed space was actually a fitting room for gladiators. As she looked at the hole now, she knew their guess to be true.  
  
The large gladiators smiled their crooked grins and laughed once more at the four fighters being led to the platform. Lance was being forced first, with Nick and Mark being pushed behind them. Kenshin too was being brought to the platform. He glanced over his shoulder to see the gladiators heading up the tunnel to the side entrance of the arena. He tried to get a good estimate as to how many there were, but the soldier behind him kept pushing him forward.  
  
Now the gladiators were halfway up the first leg of the tunnel, their laughter and shouts echoing down into the room. Kenshin continued forward and onto the wooden platform. The sand on the wood shifted and slipped through the cracks under his weight. Turning to face the guards who had pushed him, Kenshin stared forward with an unwavering glare. He knew that he was about to do something that he had promised himself to stop doing. But he had to do what was right, both now and when he arrived back in his time.  
  
The group of archeologists and the lone warrior steadied themselves as the platform creaked off the dirt floor. The familiar wooden cranks were turning on both sides of them, producing a deep clicking. The dark and dismal scene of the gladiator room began to darken as the group was lifted into the bean of the rising sun above them. The square opening in the stone ceiling was growing large with each heave of the slaves below. They were going to battle, and the tension was getting to all but one of the four fighters. Kenshin was still staring dead ahead with the same determined glare.  
  
From somewhere above the arena floor, a loud voice filled the stadium, quieting the roar of the spectators. The interpreters instantly gave Lance a translation.  
  
"People of Rome," shouted a publican from the emperor's stage. "Prepare yourselves!"  
  
The crowd cheered, knowing that the action was only minutes away. Lisa was sitting with Jackie in a cushioned chair beside the emperor's. From their excellent view, they could see the entire stadium battlefield. The publican was right in front of them, standing at the platform's edge and addressing the people. The fat man was obviously wearing a wig, trying in vain to cover his baldness. He wore purple and golden robes, making him look wealthy and important. His hands were ornamented with gold rings and bracelets.  
  
"Today," the publican shouted. "We are privileged and honored by our emperor, Caesar Herodius!" Again, the crowd roared and cheered. "You shall see mighty acts of valor and strength. The emperor has prepared a mighty battle for you. Look there in the arena!"  
  
The crowd cheered when they saw four figures slowly rise up through the square whole in the arena sand. Lisa and Jackie leaned forward to get a better look at the four men. As the platform continued rising to meet the arena floor, Lisa could see a strangely dressed man with long hair standing with – with her fiancée and Nick and Mark. Her heart skipped a few beats as she saw her loved ones. Both Lisa and Jackie were now worried. They had thought that the team wouldn't have to fight until later, but now it appeared as though Caesar wanted to crush the girl's spirits right away.  
  
The platform stopped at a flush level with the arena floor. The four fighters remained still, not moving a muscle.  
  
Lance felt his forehead brake out in sweat. His palms were shaking. All around them, thousands of Romans were cheering, cheering for their demise. They were cheering for his death, and they wanted to see it come in the most gruesome way they could. The white sand was bright in his still-adjusting eyes. He squinted as he scanned the stadium.  
  
Nick and Mark both kept their eyes panning from left to right, registering the jeering crowd and the enormous circle of sand that they were standing in. The high walls of the collosium reached almost three hundred feet into the air, the bowl filled with thousands of Roman spectators.  
  
Kenshin saw the people, and the he heard the jeering screams and laughter. He knew that these people wanted to see death and blood. But as he stood there, he didn't think about what the people wanted, or what he himself wanted. Instead, Kenshin kept thinking back on the events of the last few months. He saw her face again, a faint smile shining back at him. Kenshin clenched his fists. He wouldn't allow such a loss to happen to anyone else. He would fight to save the other man's wife, and he would protect them at all costs.  
  
"Behold," the publican bellowed. "Spies and thieves sent to kill the emperor."  
  
The crowd jeered and booed. They hollered and waved until the publican waved his hands to quiet them down.  
  
"Great Caesar has decided," the fat man declared, "That these traitors be punished in front of the whole of Rome, by the gladiators of the emperor!"  
  
The crowd cheered again.  
  
Now the emperor himself had risen from his throne and had walked to the platform's edge. He smiled and waved at the spectators. The crowd roared in response, crying praises to their emperor. Herodius smiled again and addressed the people.  
  
"People of Rome," the emperor cried. "Shall I give these spies the just punishment which they deserve?"  
  
The mob screamed and shouted, waving their hands in agreement. Herodius smiled.  
  
"Then let it be so," Caesar shouted.  
  
He looked down to the four fighters and cracked an evil grin. He then turned and nodded to the soldiers atop the tunnel entrance on the left side of the arena.  
  
The four fighters turned and prepared themselves. The huge wooden doors that led down to the gladiator room were directly in front of them, with two guards stationed above them on the concrete overhang. One of the guards looked down through a gap in the stone and shouted something to the gate soldier. Lance knew that the doors would swing open any minute now, letting out the hoard of bloodthirsty gladiators.  
  
Kenshin saw what was happening.  
  
"This is it," he said in a forceful tone. "Go. Head for the wall behind us."  
  
Lance looked down at the sand by the wooden platform that they were standing on. He saw four Roman swords lying on the ground.  
  
"Are you sure?" Lance asked him. "We could still help –"  
  
"I'm sure," Kenshin told him. "I'll be fine. Just go to the wall and try not to let yourselves get cornered."  
  
Reluctantly, Lance nodded and headed away to the opposite wall. Nick and Mark quickly followed behind him.  
  
"What are they doing?" the emperor asked himself. "This is strange behavior for those about to fight."  
  
"They are thieves, my lord," came a strong voice from behind him. "Their ways are indeed strange."  
  
Herodius turned to see the captain of his guard, the general who had captured the male spies. His blonde hair was showing when he removed his helmet and bowed to show respect to the emperor. But he soon stood back at attention and held his helmet by his side.  
  
"General Marcus," the emperor smiled. "Do you believe these spies to be good sport for my gladiators?"  
  
"The three by the wall will fall easily, sire," the general said as he joined the emperor at the platform rail. "But that one in the center may prove to be quite a show."  
  
"Is that so?" Herodius mused. "I shall enjoy this."  
  
Lance reached the wall and turned around. Nick and Mark had just joined him and were also turning to see the arena. The two wooden doors were still closed, but they knew that they would open any second now. Lance felt his adrenaline rush and his palms become sweaty. This was it.  
  
Kenshin kept his stern glare on the wooden doors. With a calm motion, he pulled his belt away from his waist by a few inches. He took his other hand and pulled out his sword, which had been hidden the entire time. He could hear the crowd murmur when they saw him pull out the three- foot sheath. Kenshin pulled the sword, which was still attached to him by a strap that ran tightly around his waist, around to his left side. He adjusted the strap to allow it to fit snuggly around him and still keep the sheath in place.  
  
Now with his weapon ready, Kenshin stepped back with his left foot. His left leg was bent and his right leg at slighter bend. His body was pointing slightly left of the door, but his head and glare kept pointing directly at the juncture of the massive wooden frames. With his left hand, Kenshin gripped the neck of the sheath and pushed down to force the handle to point away from him, making the sheath level with the ground. He then brought over his right arm to rest his hand four inches above the sword's handle. He was ready.  
  
"What kind of weapon is this?" the emperor asked his guard captain.  
  
"I do not know, my lord," General Marcus replied. "I don't understand how such a thing could be hidden from us. Surely they must have searched him when they captured him?"  
  
"You mean you did not arrest him with the others?" Herodius asked curiously.  
  
"No, sire," Marcus said in reply. "The guards chose him at random from the dungeon prisoners to be the fourth fighter in the group."  
  
The emperor shrugged.  
  
The huge wooden doors burst open in a loud swoosh. The dust parted to make way for a shouting mob of gladiators, each one raising their weapons high in the air. Kenshin counted quickly, but saw over forty charging warriors, all of them wearing metal helmets or masks. Two big gladiators in the front of the pack were boasting full body armor and leather strapping. Both of them had large axes in their hands, their curved blades shining in the bright sun.  
  
With his left hand still on his sheath, Kenshin used his left thumb to push on the wrist guard of his sword. An inch of the blade slid out from the neck of the sheath. Kenshin remained still. The hoard of charging gladiators continued running at full speed towards the lone figure in the center of the arena.  
  
Kenshin narrowed his eyes.  
  
Lance was watching with anxiety, breathing heavily as he saw the great number of gladiators storming out of the giant doors. Just the sight of them sent fear up and down the professor's spine. What if Kenshin couldn't beat them? What if he died? It would be his fault, and his death would be on his hands. As Lance watched the gladiators run hard toward Kenshin, he kept wishing he was back in modern Rome, when none of this would be happening. Suddenly, Lance paused his thoughts. Kenshin had disappeared.  
  
He had pulled out his sword with blinding speed. Still swinging it from his sheath, Kenshin pushed the blade through one of the large, armored gladiators in the front of the pack. Before the blood could even fly from the separated upper-body, Kenshin sliced off the head of the other armored gladiator. He could hear the falling legs of the first fallen warrior hit the ground as he swung his sword in a wide arch around his body. Three more gladiators fell, their weapons still high above their heads.  
  
There was flash of dark clothing and a shimmer of steel next to two charging gladiators at the right edge of the hoard. The same brief image appeared now in the center and then to the right. Kenshin paused to readjust his footing before launching forward through a pack of large grunts with mallets. He appeared here, then there, and then above them. In an instant, he had landed on the ground, his sword shimmering in the bright sunlight, and disappeared into the remainder of the gladiators.  
  
The once-jeering crowd was silent when Kenshin stopped himself behind the last of the gladiators. He was standing perfectly still with his sword held tightly by both hands. The blade wasn't shimmering any more, but was dripping with blood.  
  
Behind him, the gladiators fell, one by one. Not all of them fell in one piece. Arms dropped like hail and weapons clanked as they hit the sand. Blood rained down in thick fountains as separated flesh fell apart. Every gladiator was hacked to pieces.  
  
In the thick silence, Caesar Herodius watched in astonishment. His jaw was slightly open, and his stare was fixed on the young warrior standing still in the center of the arena. He saw the young man stand straight and raise his sword. The warrior swung the blade quickly and stopped the swipe with a sudden halt. The excess blood flung from the weapon and splattered on the white sand.  
  
Lance was at ease. The gladiators were dead, their mutilated corpses littering the arena. He made himself look away from the pool of blood and gore, only to see Kenshin standing alone in the center of the arena. The young samurai's sword was in the process of being sheathed. Kenshin slid the blade into the black sheath, stopping at the grip guard. Lance kept his stare on Kenshin's face, which was partly hidden behind his long hair. Though unable to see the young warrior's expression, Lance knew what the boy must have been feeling.  
  
But no one knew what Kenshin was feeling. He himself was a mess of confusion and guilt. He had made his vow that the battle in Kyoto would be the last time he would ever take a life. But he didn't make the vow to himself, but to her. He felt like he was dishonoring her. He cringed and gritted his teeth. The emotions were swelling inside him. He wondered how he would be prepared to face the Shinsen Gumi if he could barely stand to face primitive grunts. Would he be ready?  
  
Lisa and Jackie stared at the mess in the arena. On one hand, they were relieved to see their loved ones alive and well, but were horrified at the massacre. They had turned their heads more than once when the small warrior sliced his way through the barbaric hoard, trying hard to avoid the sight of spraying blood and flesh. But now they were staring at red sand, with body parts lying apart from their previous owners. Jackie felt bile rise in her throat. She looked away to avoid vomiting.  
  
Lisa, instead of turning her view from the arena, looked up to see Lance staring back at her. He was safe for now, and she felt a glimmer of hope when she saw her fiancée smile. She couldn't help but manage an unconscious smile in return. Her gaze caught sight of Kenshin as he began moving toward her friends.  
  
Nick and Mark were both awestruck and silent. 


	2. Reprocussions

Nick and Mark were both awestruck and silent. What they were looking at - no, what they had just seen, was too incredible to believe. How could anyone move that fast? It was impossible. But it did happen, and they were saved because of it.  
  
From his ornate balcony, Herodius was both shocked and horrified. His gladiators had been massacred, and the crowd was now cheering for the spies. This was unacceptable.  
  
"General," said Herodius as he turned his head in frustration toward the soldier next to him.  
  
General Marcus knew his emperor well, and knew exactly what he wanted him to do. With a salute, the soldier pointed to a small door on the side of the arena. It quickly burst open to allow a dozen armed soldiers to charge through. Their armor shined brightly in the sunlight, sparkling as they filed out and circled the lone warrior in the center of the arena. They completely ignored the archeologists standing against the far wall.  
  
Lance was thankful of that fact, but terrified for Kenshin. Gladiators were one thing, but these were armed soldiers, wearing armor and trained to be killers. Sweat beat down his face again. The situation had taken bad turn.  
  
The crowd cheered louder, expecting more action. Kenshin heard their jeers and shouts, registered the glimmering armor of the twelve soldiers surrounding him, and glanced up at the balcony where the emperor stood. The man was frowning deeply, and staring back at Kenshin with an evil glare. The emperor made a quick motion to the guards, thrusting his fist out in front of him and pointing his thumb down.  
  
Again the crowd cheered. But this time, Kenshin wasn't paying attention to them. The soldiers had begun their charge, running toward the center of their circle to attack him. They were nearly upon him when Kenshin disappeared. The soldiers halted abruptly, confused about the vanishing man. It was this confusion that bought Kenshin enough time to prepare his attack.  
  
From thirty yards away from the confused huddle of Roman soldiers, the battousai stepped back into a fighting stance, once again placing his right hand on the hilt of his sword. His energy summoned and flowing through him, Kenshin used his left hand to push the neck of the sheath downward, pointing the hilt to the ground.  
  
"Do Ryu Sen!" Kenshin shouted, drawing his blade with god-like speed to slash the ground in front of him. The dirt erupted in a line of destruction, blasting across the ground until it reached the soldiers. Each man was sent flying through the air, his sword and helmet falling in every direction. The explosion of dirt and sand shook the arena floor, quieting the crowd's cheers back to murmurs of awe.  
  
Again the emperor was shocked and horrified. Every one of his soldiers was lying in the sand unconscious. What sort of man was this? His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the young warrior start heading toward the gladiator tunnel. The boy waved for the three spies to follow him.  
  
Herodius could hear General Marcus walk back to his side. He already knew what the general was going to ask.  
  
"Go down there," said the emperor. "Make sure they don't leave, but don't do anything against them. Just make sure they don't leave."  
  
General Marcus nodded and saluted, and then marched off into the corridor behind the balcony. Herodius watched him go, and then turned back to the arena. Disgusted with the mutilated corpses and the beaten soldiers he saw before him, the emperor shifted his stare onto the two women standing to his left. They were watching the spies leave the arena through the tunnel. Herodius saw their expressions and again had to shift his view. They were hopeful.  
  
The crowd continued cheering in the background as the four men began their trek down the dark tunnel. A loud thud echoed in the darkness when the huge doors shut behind them. They walked at their own pace, the guards too afraid of Kenshin to be forceful. The darkness of the tunnel was pitch black to them, even with the aid of the torches flickering along the walls. They round the circular bend and headed down the ramp to the gladiator room.  
  
Every man was silent and motionless, staring at the one with the sword. Large grunts were sizing up the boy, while the weaker gladiators were breathing heavily and trying to calm their beating hearts. Armed soldiers lined the exits in rows of ten, ready to stop any attempt to escape.  
  
That was fine. The four men had no intention of escaping. They were here to win this tournament, and rescue the women being held captive. Lance personally was dying to get to Lisa. He wanted her in his arms, where he could protect her. But for now he had to rely on the battousai…and after what he just witnessed in the arena, his hopes were very high.  
  
Standing along the huge wall that circled the arena floor, Greg Conway smiled. The boy certainly was all that Thatcher had made him out to be. Conway had put on the uniform of the soldier he killed minutes before the fight, and had found a great spot to both view the fight and keep an eye on the two women on the balcony. He was only about fifty feet away from them, and could probably make a quiet approach if he had the right opportunity. Until then, he'd have to wait. 


	3. Apprehension

The four men stood against the wall. Roman soldiers stood in bunched huddles on either side, all turning now and then to glance at the longhaired man with the sword. One of the guards had been too presumptuous, and had tried taking the sword from him by force. Now his decapitated body lay on cart, his head thrown on top of it and ready to be taken away.  
  
After seeing that example, the guards made sure they kept their distance. The gladiators watching also shied away, with the exception of a group of very large men wearing steel armor. They were a different breed of gladiator, of this Kenshin was certain. These men were from the north, most likely Germania. They were slow and bulky, but incredibly strong…and with the armor on, it might be quite a chore to defeat them.  
  
But he would. He had to. Kenshin looked over at the man who had taken him to the future. Lance was a tall man, and muscular too. The battousia could tell that the man wanted to free the one he loved. Kenshin could see the determination in his eyes, and yet he also saw pain. Whatever love the professor had for this woman, it was strong.  
  
Kenshin leaned walked slowly past Nick to stand next to Lance.  
  
"How long have you been with her?" Kenshin asked.  
  
The professor was startled from his thoughts when Kenshin spoke. He smiled at the boy.  
  
"I've known her for almost eight years," Lance told him. "We were in love for nearly two, and I just asked her to marry me a few months ago."  
  
"If I were not here," Kenshin said, "would you still have fought for her?"  
  
"I'd die for her," Lance said. "I'd die a thousand deaths if it would bring her a minute of happiness."  
  
The young warrior stood silently for a moment. This man was sincere in his words. Kenshin had long been taught by the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi, which requires the master of it to sense the emotions of the one they were fighting. Kenshin could feel the emotions of the man next to him. It was almost deeper to him than the love he had for Tomoe.  
  
Nick, impatient and constantly realizing their situation brought the two men back to reality.  
  
"What are they going to do now?" he asked them.  
  
"Well," Lance replied. "They'll probably throw twice as many gladiators after us this time, and I'm sure the emperor has devised some way of laying a trap for Kenshin."  
  
"So what do we do?" Nick asked.  
  
All Lance could do was look at Kenshin. The boy was more skilled than all the gladiators put together, but Lance knew there was no way of defending against a mob of that size. He honestly didn't know what to do, or what to think. To his relief, Kenshin spoke up.  
  
"Numbers are never the problem," Kenshin said. "But this time you probably won't get a chance to watch from the sidelines. This time you'll have to fend for yourselves until I can get to you."  
  
"But we can't use a sword," Mark commented.  
  
The tall and somewhat lanky graduate student was not much for confrontations, nor did he want anything to do with such a bloody massacre as he saw before. Still, he'd do anything to stay alive. Whatever this kid had planned, he would have to follow it.  
  
"Pick them up anyway," said Kenshin. "Use their size to your advantage. When they swing their weapon, dodge it and take a swipe at their feet or ankles. If you look at the gladiators suiting up, you can see that their feet are relatively unprotected."  
  
"And if they can't walk," said Lance, "then they can't chase us."  
  
"Exactly," noted Kenshin. "Just make sure you can move quick enough to make the strike, otherwise you'll probably be killed from the gladiator's second blow."  
  
Nick swallowed hard.  
  
Standing on his balcony, Emperor Herodius saw the eager faces of the crowd. They wanted more bloodshed. It always amazed him how much his people loved violence, and how violence could control them. Herodius would use this to keep his grip of power over them. As long as they were preoccupied with this carnage, then he could raise the taxes, putting more money in his pocket.  
  
But if his gladiators were overthrown, it would be a reflection on him. The people would realize that he was not the strongest leader, and possibly go against him in the future. To ensure his authority, he would kill these four spies. He would defeat them.  
  
Conway had moved twenty feet closer to the balcony. Through the electronic voice of the translator lodged in his ear canal, he could hear the words of the crowed around him. None of it was what he had wanted to here. They were talking about how the emperor never liked losing a contest, and that the second round was always more dangerous.  
  
If things got out of hand, he'd have to make a move for the girls earlier than planned. He didn't want to though. He wanted to get everyone out together. The marines sent to protect them had all been slaughtered, but at least there was still a chance to get the team back alive.  
  
On the balcony, Lisa was thinking the same thing. With the aid of the boy who fought earlier, her fiancée and her friends could make it through the tournament, and possibly free her and Jackie. Then they could all go home and try to forget this nightmare.  
  
Jackie, on the other hand, found herself petrified for Nick. She had never admitted to anyone, even to herself, than she had feelings for him; but seeing him in the same arena as those gladiators nearly tore her heart to pieces. Even though the new guy was powerful, she didn't want Nick out there at all. She just wanted him next to her, back in their time.  
  
In the darkness of the gladiator room, Kenshin kept surveying the other gladiators. For the most part, they were all much weaker than the Germanian thugs. If he could get the other men past the second round, there wouldn't be enough gladiators left to be any challenge for him.  
  
Lance, however, found himself in a stare down with General Marcus, the tall soldier wearing shiny armor. Even in this dim lighting, it gleamed back at him. What really made Lance uncomfortable was the strange grin on the general's face. Whatever plan the emperor has devised must be something big.  
  
Another Roman soldier rushed down a hidden stairwell, giving a message to the general through a barred window on a dark, iron door. The general listened as the soldier finished the message, and then smiled. He turned his gaze once again back to the four men on the other side of the room. To Kenshin, the general's evil grin said it all.  
  
"It's time," the battousai said. 


	4. Intensity

Once again, they felt the platform shift as it was lifted off the ground. Standing close together, the four men were silent and motionless. Amidst the thudding cranks of the gears below them, their thoughts were quite clear.  
  
Lance was apprehensive. He knew this round would be more complicated, and more dangerous, than the one before. They just had to make it through this one. If they could just get through this round…no, no it wouldn't matter. Even if they survived this attack, and even another one, the emperor wouldn't allow them to win no matter what. If they were going to get girls and get out of this alive, then they'd have to make a move before the final round. Yes, that's what needed to be done. The only question was, how in the world they would be able to reach the balcony, rescue the women, and still have enough time to escape before every soldier in the city came down on them?  
  
Nick was thinking along those same lines. Although, he couldn't stop thinking about how strong their fourth member had proven to be. How was someone his own age so much greater than he was? But for whatever jealous reasons he had, there were many more reasons to be grateful. One of them was waiting for him up on the balcony. Jackie did mean a lot to him, and he wanted her safe and in his arms.  
  
Mark could only try and shake off the fear he was experiencing. He'd never even lifted a real sword before the training session earlier today, and even then he wasn't any good at it. How was he supposed to fight off huge gladiators? How he wished he could be back at the dig site in modern Rome. The coliseum was nowhere near as imposing as it was right now.  
  
And then there was Kenshin. Though he pushed his thoughts about the past few months back to the farthest reaches of his consciousness, they kept coming back to haunt him. Despite his face rising into a beam of sunlight, he didn't squint his eyes. Instead he could only see her face, blood running from her mouth. Her eyes were so full of pain, and yet never had glowed with so much peace. Could she have finally found peace, even in death by the one who she loved? For Kenshin, it was her who gave him peace. But he destroyed it when her blood dripped from his hands. His life was full of pain now; a pain so deep that he doubted time could ever heal it. But it was her last words that gave him the urge to go on living.  
  
"…My love…" Kenshin whispered to himself.  
  
Lance was the only one of the men who heard the whisper. The others were too preoccupied with the rising sight of the fifty thousand shouting Romans. But instead of being drawn into the terror of what was to come, Lance was seeing the pain in Kenshin's eyes. What had he gone through before they had met on that road outside the village?  
  
"People of Rome!" came a bellowing shout from far in front of them.  
  
Lance Thatcher looked up to see the publican, standing with his arms wide as he faced the crowd. The fat man snickered as he soaked in the cheers and shouts. Standing behind him, next to the sitting emperor, was General Marcus. Even from fifty yards away, Lance could see the pride on the soldier's face. Again the uncomfortable feeling swept over Lance. There was something very different with about that guy. Again the publican spoke.  
  
"These spies," he said with a jeer, "have proven quite the competitors."  
  
The crowd cheered again. Through the tiny transmitters in their ears, the three archeologists could hear the crude remarks by the Roman mob. Kenshin couldn't understand their words, but then he didn't need to. Their emotions said it all. He could feel their thirst for more violence.  
  
Lance, Nick, and Mark each picked up one of the swords lying on the ground.  
  
"But now," the publican continued. "Let us see if they can match the remnants of the southern kings!"  
  
The roaring mob became loud with shouts. As they screamed, Kenshin focused his mind. He somehow found the ability to push back his emotions, seeing nothing but the doors around the arena.  
  
Herodius smiled when he saw the four men in the arena. The one with the sword wouldn't be so lucky this time. No matter what power he might posses he couldn't dodge everything. Content with his plan, the emperor nodded to General Marcus. With the go ahead from his commander, the general gave the order.  
  
Lance tensed when the gargantuan wooden doors yet again burst open. From out of the gaping maw came golden chariots, with archers onboard. Two horses pulled each ornate cart, both masked in decorative coverings. The iron wheels were fitted with razor-sharp spikes that protruded out to the side. To make matters worse, ten soldiers on horseback sprinted out past the chariots and began to circle the arena at full speed. Dust clouds trailed behind them, as the chariots too began to circle the four men in the arena's center.  
  
Kenshin turned to Lance.  
  
"You three stay here in the center," the samurai said. "And try to dodge them as best you can."  
  
Before Lance could even say a word, Kenshin had gone. With as much speed as he could muster, the longhaired samurai charged one of the circling chariots. The whole world seemed to flow in slow motion when Kenshin traveled at this speed, or at least it seemed that way to him. He had enough time to study the chariots a moment ago, and quickly saw their weakness. As an archer was preparing to fire an arrow at the group of men in the center, Kenshin launched from the ground, slicing the unwary man cleanly in half. Before the torso hit the ground, Kenshin had landed, shifted position, and sprinted alongside the chariot.  
  
Lance saw the intestines of the archer's body splatter as they hid the sand. The massive amount of blood immediately painted the ground in crimson. Luckily, something else caught Lance's attention. The chariot the archer was on had come to a dead stop, upending itself and flipping over. Now Lance understood Kenshin's strategy. The chariots couldn't move anywhere without horses. He could see the two thoroughbreds galloping together to the arena wall. But where was Kenshin?  
  
From his balcony, the emperor felt sweat role down his forehead. It was just one chariot. He couldn't possibly escape them all. But then, what if he could? No, the odds are far too much against him. There would be no conceivable way.  
  
The girls, on the other hand, were watching eagerly. They were both praying, hoping somehow God would give the men victory. Lisa found the gruesome sight of the archer's demise revolting, but encouraging nonetheless. Jackie cringed and shut her eyes. The sight was still engraved in her mind, but then so was the massacre in the round before. However gross the fight would be, it was necessary if the new man was to win at all. She glanced over at the general. He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look worried either. The man gave her the creeps.  
  
One of the soldiers on the horses saw Kenshin slice through the chariot's restraints. With a quick turnabout, he charged toward him. But Kenshin heard the hoofs of the horse beating on the ground behind him. Just as the charging soldier had his sword pulled back to make a strike, Kenshin let himself fall backwards, bringing his sword swiftly upward and slicing off the soldier's outstretched arm.  
  
Without bothering to finish off the screaming man, Kenshin spun around and leapt to his right. Two arrows hit the ground where he had once been. He cursed, for he had gotten careless. Those arrows were very close. There were still three more chariots and nine horsemen to deal with, and that meant no slacking off. He'd have to take care of the archers first.  
  
Lance tensed. Two horsemen were running straight for his group. Both men were wearing chest armor, but none on the sleeves or lower legs. But how could he get to them?  
  
"Nick!" Lance shouted. "Stand about fifteen feet away from me."  
  
"What?" Nick asked.  
  
"Just do it!" Lance ordered. "Mark, get ready. When I duck to dodge the first rider's attack, you'll have an opening to go for his arm. I'll see to second rider."  
  
"But Lance –"  
  
"I don't care," Lance interrupted. "If you don't want to die, you have to do this!"  
  
Mark swallowed hard. This was precisely what he didn't want to face. He was shaking so much he almost dropped his sword. His palms were sweaty, and his eyes were stinging from the sweat that had rolled down his forehead.  
  
Lance, however, had used whatever fear he was feeling to energize his legs. The rider was almost upon him. Just a little longer…a little longer…now! He ducked, somersaulting across the ground just under the swipe of the soldier's blade. Keeping his momentum, Lance planted his feet and leapt forward. This caught the second rider off guard, allowing Lance the chance to strike. He swung his short blade just far enough to slice off the rider's leg at the kneecap. Blood splattered on his face, as the rider screamed in agony and fell off his horse. Lance unconsciously sprung back to his feet and ran the tip of the sword through the fallen soldier's neck.  
  
Mark saw the first rider's arm swing over Lance. The momentum of the swipe was pulling the arm to the soldier's other side. There was the opening…but he couldn't move. Mark fought with himself. In split second's time, he battled against fear and doubt. He wanted to survive…he wanted to live. He prayed, closed his eyes, and swung his sword to where he thought the rider would be.  
  
Not only did he not hit the soldier, but he also had swung too hard and lost his balance. He fell spinning to the ground. As he pushed himself up, he saw the rider turn to make another pass. Mark felt his adrenaline rush. He had attacked the rider and, though he had missed, had survived. The fear was still there, but it felt different. He had confidence to try again.  
  
Mark stood to his feet and squared off to the charging rider. The sword gripped tightly in his hand, he looked up and down the soldier's body, trying to find an accessible weak point. The only places were the arms and lower legs…and the head. Mark had no control over his body as he pulled his arm high into the air and as far back as he could. With strength out of desperation, he swung his hand foreword, releasing the sword.  
  
Lance watched in awe as Mark's flying blade struck the rider's face, piercing through the skull and out the back of the head. The sight was gruesome, but at least Mark had overcome his fear, and there were now two less riders to worry about.  
  
Nick couldn't believe that Mark was capable of doing what he did. The man was always afraid of his own shadow. Now he can boast about taking out a Roman soldier, who was on horseback no less! Nick stopped his thoughts when he heard Jackie's scream.  
  
"Nick!" Jackie screamed at the top of her lungs. "Behind you!"  
  
Sure enough, Nick heard hoof prints behind him. What should he do? He turned slightly to see a rider charging right for him. Without thinking, Nick gripped his sword and sprinted to his left. The rider followed him sure enough. He'd never be able to outrun a horse, but at least he could outsmart its rider.  
  
Nick saw two fallen chariots, both upended and laying parallel to each at about ten feet apart. He'd have to do some fancy footwork, but maybe he could pull it off. Nick ran to his left, leading the rider away from the chariots. When the hoof prints were close enough behind him, Nick made a sharp u-turn. Again the rider turned and followed. This time the rider rode even faster. He nearly managed a swing of his sword before Nick turned left again. With growing frustration, the rider charged as fast as he could in the direction of the running man.  
  
But by this time it was too late. The horse stopped dead in his tracks right before the first chariot. The rider, however, was thrown clear, flying over the horse's head and through the air. Nick watched reluctantly as the man can down on the wheel of the second chariot. The spikes punctured the chest armor easily, sending a geyser of blood out from the man's mouth.  
  
As Kenshin finished off his fourth rider with a single swipe, he witnessed the tall man's attack. He couldn't help but crack a smile. It was then that he saw the younger man's victory. These guys may not know how to use a sword, but they were smart when it came to tactics.  
  
Speaking of which, he needed to figure out how to take out the one remaining chariot as well as the single horseman. Kenshin was standing in the center of the arena, facing the large wooden door. In front of it was the chariot, the gruff man at its helm frowning in anger. Behind the driver, two archers prepared to fire. Kenshin's eyes didn't leave their bows.  
  
The second the bows were released, Kenshin brought up his sword. He swiped the first arrow in two, and…caught the second with his hand! Kenshin stood tall, his sword down by his side and a long arrow gripped in his fist. He had caught arrows before – even darts – but it was always a rush. But there was no time for recognizing his speed.  
  
Kenshin shifted his stance, and prepared for an attack. With both hands on the hilt of his katana, he once again pointed his blade high into the air behind him. But this stance was different than the technique he had used in the previous round. This one was much stronger. His feet dug deep into the dry sand as he summoned his strength. Dust clouds erupted and his arms swung down and forwards with blinding speed. The shockwave of the blow shook the coliseum, as a blast of force rocked across the arena floor. Chunks of dirt and sand rocketed toward the chariot, until the line of eruptions reached the its horses. The entire chariot, horses and all, lifted off the ground in an explosion of wood and dirt. A giant dust cloud shot into the sky, while debris began to rain down on the spectators in the nearby stands.  
  
It was after the explosion that Kenshin focused his attention on the last remaining opponent. A lone rider was trying to control his horse, spinning in circles. When the man finally did get the animal under control, Kenshin had disappeared. The man nervously searched in every direction, but saw no sign of the longhaired warrior. After a minute of frustrating searching, the rider gave in to his fears. He rode in a mad dash for the large wooden door.  
  
"Open!" the rider cried. "Open the door!"  
  
General Marcus glared at the petrified man. Retreat was a disgrace to all, and must be punished. The general motioned to an archer standing on the arena's perimeter wall.  
  
Lance watched as the man took three arrows before falling off his horse. The crowd, who had been silent the entire round, now was roaring with cheers. But he felt no pleasure in being praised, for the blood of the man he killed was still wet on his hands. It was then that Lance noticed Kenshin, walking towards them from the body of the last man to fall.  
  
Kenshin knew the emotions the rider was experiencing. He felt the man's fear. He felt guilty for using that fear against him. Apparently, there was still the hardened warrior in him that needed to be broken. Yet, such a cowardly retreat was certainly reason enough for the actions of the Romans. In his own culture, Kenshin knew retreat to be worse than death, even the death of your own hands. As he walked away from the punctured body, Kenshin muttered a word.  
  
"Baka." 


	5. New Conflict

Kenshin again found himself walking across the huge arena toward his companions. Though the white sand was bright from the afternoon sun, he kept his eyes on them. They all had proven themselves with courage, using their mind to outwit their stronger opponents. This was a key principle in the ways of the samurai. Just being physically strong meant nothing. But when it was combined with mental strength, the result was a formidable warrior, capable of more than others expect of them.  
  
And so he looked at them now as warriors, as did the Romans. The hordes of spectators standing in the circular stadium were cheering them all, and were excited from the show the men had given them. Still, there were some in the coliseum who were not so grateful.  
  
From his throne on the balcony, Emperor Herodius was shifting in his seat. How could this be possible? How could four men defeat four chariots and ten horsemen? Besides not having any answers, he was agitated by the applause of the mob around him. They were cheering for the spies!  
  
"General," Herodius grumbled.  
  
The armored man stepped forward, helmet in hand.  
  
"Yes, my liege," said General Marcus.  
  
"Gather your finest men," Herodius told him. "I want full armor, everything. Give them whatever you deem necessary to kill these pests." The emperor glared at the general. "They do not make it past the next round, understood?"  
  
General Marcus nodded to the emperor.  
  
"Yes, sire," replied the general. "Leave it to me."  
  
With that said, General Marcus saluted the emperor, and then marched back into the corridor. Lisa and Jackie watched the man's face as he gave them one last glance. He was wearing an evil grin, one that sent chills up the girls' spines. The two guards standing behind them, who they had not noticed before, didn't make the feeling any better. They both turned their gaze back to the arena.  
  
"It looks like all of you are not as helpless as you once believed," said Kenshin.  
  
They were all breathing heavily, with the exception of Kenshin. Nick was looking at Jackie, but turned back to face the group. He knew that they had won the round, but they weren't out the woods yet. Mark stood a bit taller than usual, but only slightly. He was still battling with his own emotions, trying to understand what had just happened.  
  
Lance himself felt the adrenaline still pumping through his body…but also the guilt. He killed that rider, probably when he didn't need to. The thrill of the moment had gained control over his actions, ending the life of another human being. It was the first time he had ever killed anyone, and he hoped it would be his last. Yet as he stood there, looking at Kenshin, he had to wonder if the samurai had ever released all the guilt from killing all that he did, or if he still kept it bottled up inside. If he did, then Lance had more respect for him now, after knowing how hard it was to live with it.  
  
"Maybe," Lance finally replied to Kenshin. "But we only took out three riders. You handled six of them, as well as four chariots. You're the one who deserves credit."  
  
For a moment, Kenshin was silent. True, he had done what Lance had said, but he didn't want to be congratulated for doing that.  
  
"Know this," the samurai said, looking carefully at each one of them. "A samurai only credits himself when he defends the weak. There is no honor in mindless killing."  
  
Though the three men didn't answer verbally, their stares said it all. The battle they had gone through was not something they wanted to have to do again. Their only reason for going on is the fact that the lives of the women on the platform depend on it. For that reason, Kenshin would fight for them.  
  
Over eighteen hundred years later, Elsie Cramer sat exhaustingly in a leather chair, trying to stomach yet another cup of bad coffee. Sitting across from her in the small office, rummaging through the bottom drawer of his desk was Dr. Boris Johanson. Elsie hadn't slept all that well last night. The news of someone making a time jump kept her worried. Who had made it, and why?  
  
Then another jump occurred early this morning, getting everyone riled up again. Boris had woken her up once the jump was recorded, for she had given him explicit instructions to do so if anything happened, no matter how trivial. Despite the fact that no one came back, it was still significant. The jump was made from 1869 Japan, heading back to ancient Rome. What was strange, however, was that while one person went to Japan, two people came back to Rome.  
  
Whatever speculations anyone had for this had to wait however. The main thing they had to do was keep the jumps under wraps. Only those in the control room knew of them, and they had sworn to Johansan that it wouldn't leave the doors. Whitely hadn't been around for a while, and was still in the dark about the two jumps…and Boris made it clear to everyone that it was to stay this way.  
  
Now, they were going through old files and records, trying to gather as much proof as needed to be of use in a court of law. Mostly it consisted of whatever financial records that Johansan had clearance for, as well as the illegal construction and material used in the time travel process. Boris actually did most of the searching. Elsie found herself reading up on the history of the operation, learning about the initial concepts and experiments.  
  
The concepts were all built on quantum physics, of which she knew somewhat. But what she found interesting were the experiments leading up to human time travel. Whitely had first began experimenting with the idea of using quantum computers to do the complex mathematical calculations, and had then progressed to constructing the machinery that could actually handle it. She read all about the construction of the water dome, and how it provided protection from the radiation produced by the event.  
  
But then she came to the experiments. The first tests were done with animals, mostly stray dogs. The return devices were strapped to their backs, set to return after five minutes. The first two didn't even return, and the next three with only bits and pieces of the dog. It wasn't until about the tenth experiment that an animal actually came back fully intact.  
  
Once the soil from the dog's paw was analyzed, the experiment was dubbed a success. After that, Whitely immediately proposed the idea of human transportation. According to the records, Boris ardently opposed the idea, saying it was entirely too soon to even comprehend it. Whitely, of course, pushed for it anyway, and soon found his first test subject.  
  
Kale Mystovich, a former KGB agent, had volunteered for the jump. But during the jump process, the system malfunctioned, suffering from a severe power surge and electrical surcharge. The glass chamber had already filled with Xenon when the surge took place, giving the machine a mind of its own. The control room had nothing to do with it, but a jump was made anyway. When the smoke in the chamber was vented afterwards, the return device and Mystovich's clothing were lying on the chamber floor. Since the frequency had not been entered, it is not known if he was transported to a different time, or was lost in the quantum flux completely.  
  
Elsie almost dropped her coffee mug when she read this.  
  
"You mean to tell me Whitely continued experimenting after what happened to Mystovich?" she asked.  
  
Boris shut his desk drawer and sighed. It was obvious to Elsie, even without a word from the man behind the desk, that he had tried to stop Whitely. His eyes said it all.  
  
"I never in all my travels," said Boris, "met a man so indifferent and uncaring for human life as Thomas Whitely. Let me tell you, I never liked Kale Mystovich. He was a violent and egotistical maniac in my opinion…but no one deserves to die like he did. I pleaded with Whitely to stop the experiments, but he wouldn't listen. I don't know why I even decided staying here after that, but for some reason I couldn't leave."  
  
The man looked ten years older to Elsie, for she was seeing the depressed and repenting man break down before her. His eyes were even watering.  
  
"I guess," Boris continued. "I guess I wanted to be a part of something so scientifically important that I forgot about the most important concept of all – right and wrong. I'm just as guilty as Whitely is."  
  
"No," Elsie said immediately. "You're trying to stop him. That makes you different. You're trying to save the lives of the people trapped in ancient Rome. That makes you different. You care. That makes you different."  
  
The Austrian scientist smiled slightly. But no matter how much he did to stop Whitely, he had still had a hand in the time machine. That in turn led to the deaths of scores of animals and an unknown number of people. Nevertheless, no matter how low he thought of himself, he wouldn't just give up on doing something to help this woman get her friends back. It would be the least he can do.  
  
A sudden ring came from the balding scientist's lab coat. Boris nearly jumped when he heard it go off. He fumbled through the front pockets until he found his cell phone.  
  
"This is Boris," he said quickly.  
  
Elsie watched his expression. It immediately turned serious. Thirty seconds later, he ended the call.  
  
"Miss Cramer," said Boris with a hesitation. "We have seven hours until this facility is compromised and taken by the government. They…" He paused. "They plan on pulling the plug on the whole thing."  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Elsie.  
  
"It means," the scientist replied solemnly, "that we have seven hours for your friends to return before they're trapped back there forever." 


	6. Added Bonus

From his throne, Emperor Herodius watched as the four spies headed back to the gladiator tunnel. He knew there weren't many rounds left to take place, and the day would soon give way to dusk. If his general could not defeat the four spies before the day is done, then he would have no choice but to grant them freedom, and the prize. Sure, he'd just have them killed afterwards, but the damage would be done. The people would see him as weak, and they would die a martyr for the cause of rebellion.  
  
It was this reason that the emperor feared the four men. No one had ever defied him before, and still remained alive. For now, he would have to place his trust in General Marcus. The man had a knack for handling theses situations. Though only in the emperor's service for three years, Marcus had proven extremely intelligent, as well as vicious and intimidating. The emperor had first seen him in a gladiator match. Apparently, the soldiers had chosen him at random from the street to compete. It was the man's sword fighting skills that saved his life, and also caught the attention of his majesty. Marcus was just the sort of person the emperor needed for his captain of the guard.  
  
The mammoth wooden doors opened slowly. It was almost as if the guards were reluctant to admit another victory to the four men walking back to the gladiator tunnel. At least this was how they seemed to Kenshin. Of course, he couldn't blame them. He had killed over two scores of gladiators, not to mention the two-dozen of their comrades. Perhaps this was how everyone would eventually treat him. Kenshin had killed so many in the guise of justice, that his actions had affected the entire country of Japan. But how would they see him? Would they see him as the hero who brought about the new government, or would they see a demon without a soul?  
  
There were times when the young samurai felt like a demon. He would never admit it though, even to himself. It was only now, after the death of HIS loved one that he truly understood. As he walked with the others back to the tunnel, Kenshin again reaffirmed his vow. He would never again take a human life after the battles were won. There would be no other way for him to atone for the wrongs he committed.  
  
Though Kenshin was silent, Lance was not. He needed to reclaim the group's true objective. Now that he knew they stood a chance in the arena, the girls needed to be rescued. Lance didn't trust the emperor to keep any word he made, no matter what the people thought. If they were going to get out of this, they would have to make their own way.  
  
"Did any of you see Conway?" Lance asked them. "He's leaning against the balcony as we speak. I caught his attention and mouthed for him to wait for a signal from us."  
  
The darkness of the tunnel now engulfed them. The four men continued down the large corridor of rock, letting their eyes adjust to the dim lighting being cast by the torches. They could hear the clang of hammers and the shouts of gladiators echoing from around the bend in the tunnel. The other gladiators, who had been fighting while the four men were down in the arena, were now readying themselves to make the trek up the tunnel.  
  
"The gladiators fighting above us," said Lance, "could provide a distraction and give us some time to get up to the girls."  
  
Mark didn't like that idea.  
  
"But if they find out we attacked the guards that are watching us down here," said the tall graduate student, "then there's no way we could get up to them in time."  
  
"I know," replied Lance. "That's where Conway comes in."  
  
"I see," noted Kenshin. "I could probably take care of the guards down here and any on the way up in time for you to reach the stadium seats unnoticed by the emperor or his men."  
  
"Yes," Lance said. "That is if you think it can be done."  
  
Kenshin glanced around the gladiator room as they reached level ground. The weaker men were now starting up the tunnel. The guards escorting them would be out of the way, and there were only a dozen soldiers guarding the exits to the gladiator room. He could certainly take care of them quickly. The only problem would be if they screamed. He'd have to use his full speed to pull it off without one of them crying out too loud. Still, he could do it.  
  
"It can," the samurai told Lance. "But I'm going to need one of you to get their attention by that locked door over there." He pointed to the barred, iron door where General Marcus had been a round earlier. Right now, only one soldier was standing guard next to it. "That way, I can take out the rest from behind them. This way, I'll be able to take them all without them being able to scream aloud."  
  
"But we'll have to act fast," Nick commented. "The round that's about to take place probably won't be very long."  
  
"Then it's settled," said Lance. "I'll cause the distraction, and Nick and Mark will watch the tunnel for any sign of trouble. Once Kenshin takes care of the guards, then we'll have to find someway to get past that door and up to the main terminal."  
  
"Leave the door to me," said Kenshin.  
  
Up above, standing next to the emperor's balcony, was Greg Conway. He was now waiting for a signal from the others, whatever it might be. Conway's face was about ground level with the balcony, letting him see the entire layout. He could see the professor's fiancée sitting only six feet away from him. The other girl was right next to her. Sitting a little farther back, but still close, was the emperor. To Conway, the dictator looked severely riled. He was sweating and shifting in his seat.  
  
Despite smiling at the agitated emperor, Conway was a little unsure of the general's absence. The three guards standing against the back wall of the balcony would be tough enough, let alone having to deal with General Marcus. To Greg, he seemed a little too evil than the other soldiers. But despite the lack of such a foe, Conway was uneasy. Not only was General Marcus evil, but intelligent. Just from his observations, he could tell the man knew more about fighting than anyone else around. What could he be doing now?  
  
Kenshin stood against the back wall of the gladiator room. Opposite him, over fifty feet away, was the iron door. The guard in front was standing at full attention. Kenshin would definitely have to be fast.  
  
Lance stood near the door, smirking now and then to the guard. Lance was trying hard to find some sort of way to distract the guard at the door. There was another tunnel to the left of the doorway that led up to the garrison. They had been led down to the gladiator room through this tunnel early this morning, which seemed ages ago.  
  
Nick waited with Mark, both of them standing beside the samurai. His ear began itching, and he felt his translator had shifted. Nick scratched his ear with his finger, and then tapped the earpiece to push it back into place. After it felt comfortable again, he mumbled to himself in a low whisper.  
  
"Stupid earpiece," he muttered. "Always twisting in my ear."  
  
From across the room, Lance immediately spun around. He stared at Nick. Mark too had turned suddenly, holding a hand up to his ear. Nick caught their gazes with a look of confusion.  
  
"What?" Nick asked Mark.  
  
Lance Thatcher heard Nick again. Even being over fifty feet away, he could hear Nick loud and clear through the electronic translator. His eyes widened. Now he remembered what Conway had said before they made the jump to Rome.  
  
Greg Conway cursed when he remembered about the earpiece. He even told the archeologists and marines who came with him, and yet he himself forgot all about it. The earpiece also acted as a radio transmitter, being fitted with a powerful microphone. He reached up and tapped his ear. While doing so, he turned to Lisa and Jackie, who had also heard Nick's voice through their earpieces.  
  
Being turned around, Conway also saw General Marcus standing in the corridor that led to the balcony. He was apparently talking to a guard, or at least that's what it appeared like. Only his arm and shoulder could be seen. But Conway knew it was the general. Only he would have armor that boisterously shiny. Still, if he was in the corridor talking to someone, then he couldn't have noticed the girls' reaction to Nick's voice. He turned and looked back to the arena.  
  
"Everyone keep quiet," Conway said. "I'm sorry I forgot about it, but remember what I told you before we made the jump."  
  
Lance listened intently as Conway's voice came over the earpiece. The disguised marine above continued, his voice being electronically transmitted in Lance's ear.  
  
"If you haven't done so already," continued Conway. "Tap your earpiece. Once you do that, you should be able to communicate directly to the rest of the group, even at a whisper."  
  
The professor immediately did as instructed, and watched Mark do the same. Kenshin was somewhat confused to say the least, but Lance heard Mark informing the samurai of the earpiece.  
  
"Lance?" came a female voice.  
  
"Lisa," said Lance, almost without breath in his lungs.  
  
"Lance, are you alright?" Lisa asked.  
  
"Yes," Lance replied. "But what about you? Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"  
  
"No," the woman answered in a whisper. "But I don't want to wait here until they do. Get us out of here."  
  
"We're working on it," said Lance. "Can you see Conway? He should be standing right beside the balcony."  
  
Lisa and Jackie simultaneously leaned forward and glanced to their left. Sure enough, Conway was there. The ex-marine turned his head slightly and nodded slowly. Lisa felt her hopes rising, as did Jackie.  
  
But back in the gladiator room, Lance was worried.  
  
"Listen," the professor said. "Are the gladiators fighting yet?"  
  
Conway answered back.  
  
"They just started," came his electronic voice.  
  
"Alright then," Lance told everyone. "We're coming up. Conway, when you hear us in the corridor get up onto the balcony, and try to put a knife to the back of the emperor's neck. Tell him to act calm like nothing was wrong, or you'll cut his throat. He seems like a man who values self- preservation. I think he'll do what you say."  
  
"That's easier said than done," said Conway. "That general is up here."  
  
Standing next to the balcony, Conway turned to survey the general's location. He was still in the hallway, and from what Conway could see, had his arms crossed as he listened to a soldier who was farther into the hallway.  
  
"He's in the corridor that leads to the balcony," said Conway. "I think he's talking to a soldier – wait a second."  
  
Two soldiers came out of the corridor, followed by the general. One of them took over for one of the men who were standing guard against the wall. The other soldier came forward and took position beside the emperor. General Marcus was now taking his normal position beside his commander's throne.  
  
"No," said Conway as he turned back to the arena. "I think the soldier he was talking to is now guarding to the emperor, and Marcus is standing on the other side of the throne."  
  
There was a pause, and then Lance's voice came over the radio transmitter.  
  
"Mark," the professor said. "See if Kenshin would have a problem taking out three soldiers and the general."  
  
Conway heard Mark ask the question to the samurai. A moment later, Mark spoke up.  
  
"He said no problem," Mark said.  
  
"Good," came Lance's voice. "Greg, when Kenshin appears on the balcony, that'll be your queue to get to the emperor. By the time you mount the railing, the balcony should be clear. Then we'll take the emperor as our ticket out of here. All we'll need to do is find somewhere open enough for all of us to grab hold of the return device, and we can get out of here."  
  
Greg Conway looked back at the throne. He could see the general standing on the other side shifting his weight back and forth.  
  
"Sounds fine," Conway said. "Just make sure your samurai friend does his part. I don't want to be up here against four big Romans."  
  
"Don't worry about Kenshin," came Nick's voice. "Compared to what he's done already, four soldiers should be a piece of cake. Jackie, Lisa, get ready, because we're going to have to hall booty once we nab the emperor."  
  
"We've been ready," Jackie replied. "Just be careful. Please."  
  
"Alright then," Lance said. "Everyone get ready." 


	7. Problem

Muted shouts and screams echoed down into the emptied gladiator room. The round taking place above the four men's heads wouldn't last much longer. It was this urgency that forced them to prepare quickly for their escape attempt.  
  
Kenshin kept a firm grip on the neck of his sheath. He knew that the few moments ahead would require super god-like speed, something that he honestly didn't know if his body could handle it. But despite his hesitations, Kenshin was ready. There were a few guards standing in front of the armor and shielding rack, and two standing opposite them next to a small weapons rack.. Lance had walked right between them a few minutes earlier, but the soldiers didn't move. However, when the professor from the future would provide his distraction, the guards would most likely turn toward the other end of the room, leaving their backs to Kenshin. That would be when he would begin his assault.  
  
It was Mark and Nick who were a little uneasy. They doubted things would ever work out as planned. It all seemed too simple. Still, they did manage to gather enough courage to run.  
  
Lance stood near the rear tunnel entrance, which led up to the garrison. He walked slowly back and forth, keeping an eye on the soldier standing guard in front of the stairwell door. The soldier was about Lance's height, with the same build and weight. But the armor, sword, and spear were a bit intimidating. At least he didn't have to be the one to do the action though. All he had to do was get the guards attention, which he seemed to be doing pretty well.  
  
"Hey," came a translated shout from the guard. "Get back with the others."  
  
For a moment, the professor paused, almost shaking. But he quickly reclaimed his objective. Lance started walking slowly toward the tunnel, slow enough for Kenshin to clearly see when the guard would move.  
  
Frustrated with the spy's apparent lack of respect for his authority, the soldier moved from the doorpost, walking firmly toward Lance. The other soldiers, who had been standing guard next to the equipment turned to see what the commotion was about.  
  
Kenshin immediately launched forward, leaving a wake of wind behind him that ruffled the ragged shirts of Mark and Nick. Mark barely caught a split-second glimpse of blurred motion as the head of one of the two guards who were standing next to the weapons flipped high into the air. Just as soon as the blade had come through the neck, the battousai sliced back to his right, cutting right through the second soldier's armor, sending a gurgling spray of blood through the air. Still keeping his momentum, Kenshin then shoved his sword straight through the armored chest of one of the other three guards, managing to run the tip of the blade into the neck of a second soldier.  
  
It was now that Nick and Mark felt the rush of air against their face, the wake of Kenshin's first movement. The two men never saw anything more than a blur of the small warrior. All they saw for certain were the gruesome deaths of five soldiers in the blink of an eye.  
  
The third soldier now was pulling his short sword out of his leather sheath. But his thoughts drifted to blackness as the world around him dimmed to darkness.  
  
Lance gulped down bile when he saw Kenshin shove his sword up the third soldier's neck and out of his armored helmet. Blood shot like a fountain out of the open wound, running in streams down the soldiers face. But Kenshin had disappeared again. Now Lance came back to reality. He looked left to see the guard he had distracted. The man was a statue, a look of horror and disbelief imprinted on his pale face. Blood suddenly began dripping from his slightly open mouth. The man's waist became a fountain of crimson waterfalls, soon spewing forth intestines and a portion of his liver. The torso toppled over the waist, and the hips fell backwards, splattering a gallon of blood into the moist dirt.  
  
Still in the position his swing had left him, Kenshin gripped his sword tightly. He breathed deeply, but slowly. That series of attacks used more energy than he thought he actually had. His body was trying to catch up to him. Nevetheless, he had done it without any screams from the Romans. Now he stood, still holding his sword at his side as he turned for the door.  
  
Lance was the first to follow. He dared not say anything to Kenshin, but he knew he had to inform Conway of their situation. He cupped his hand to his ear and whispered as he walked.  
  
"Conway," Lance said, hearing his transmitted voice in his own earpiece. "We're about to go upstairs. It'll be about a minute for us to reach you once we get up the stairs, but as soon as you see Kenshin on the balcony, get up there."  
  
"I got it," came Conway's voice over the transmitter.  
  
With that taken care of, Lance joined Nick and Mark beside the separated waist of the fallen Roman soldier who had been the door's guardian. But to their disappointment, there was no key on the blood- covered belt. The three men kept scanning the corpse and the ground around him. Suddenly, a loud thud filled the air, followed by splinters and metal hinges. The three archeologists turned to see Kenshin standing in front of an obliterated hole in the thick wooden door.  
  
"Follow me as fast as you can," the battousai said to them, keeping his determined gaze on the new opening he created. "Don't fall behind."  
  
Lance grabbed Nick and Mark, and then pulled them along as he began sprinting toward the small warrior. That blast created by Kenshin's destruction of the door was loud enough to get any nearby soldiers' attention. He knew that the battousai must have figured this too. Lance's suspicion was confirmed when he saw Kenshin disappear through the broken door with blinding speed.  
  
Together, the three men chased Kenshin as fast as they physically could. The stairway was dark and moldy, much like it was in modern times. Only this time, they weren't running up it for a phone call. They were running to save the lives of the women they loved.  
  
Lance saw a distorted shape tumble down the stairs, a dark liquid spraying with every impact on the stone. The three men all stepped to the right, backing against the cold rock of the stairwell as a soldier's mutilated corpse rolled past them. A slashing sound came from somewhere above, and the three men had to dodge another tumbling body.  
  
After fifty small steps, the stairway gave way to a small corridor that turned sharply to the left. It went upward at a slant, the marbled grade lit with an orange glow by flickering torches.  
  
The corridor turned into another, longer hallway, that also stretched upward on a slight grade. But this hallway ran the circumference of the arena wall, heading up to a series of small rooms right before the entrance to the balcony corridor. Four, bloody bodies lined the floor before them, and two more twenty feet away.  
  
The professor in the lead saw a glimpse of Kenshin sprinting around the curve of the hallway. The battousai would surely clear their path, and still keep far in front of them. Still, if all of them were to have a chance to get back to the future together, then the three men would have to keep up with Kenshin if at all possible.  
  
Kenshin swung his sword in a nearly invisible arc, slicing three unaware soldiers before moving on to the next room. There were a series of junction rooms, holding supplies, food, and wine for the emperor and the senate members who were sitting nearby. But the rooms were heavily guarded. Too heavily guarded. Every room contained at least six soldiers, all boasting shields. Why were there so many guards in rooms containing only food and drink?  
  
He had no time to speculate. Every room had too many soldiers to allow the battousai more than two swings before the guards would have enough time to scream for help. Into another room Kenshin ran, immediately slamming his blade through armor and shields. Three soldiers fell to the ground. But before the bodies hit the marble, the other soldiers in the room were dead. Blood splattered across the white walls, barely able to start the trek downward before Kenshin moved to the next room.  
  
With each swipe of his sword, three soldiers dropped to the floor. Yet despite the killing, Kenshin kept his mind clear of emotions or guilt. He knew that they would torment him eventually, but for now he needed his whole concentration. The servants were too startled to say or mutter anything, so he didn't concern himself with them.  
  
Lance kept his pace as best he could, always checking for Nick and Mark behind him. Together, the three men followed the gruesome trail of blood through each room. Mutilated bodies of Roman soldiers, some of them in pieces, lay on the ground. Lance saw the horror that marked each room, swallowing hard to push down the lump in his throat. Thankfully, there weren't many more rooms left to go before the balcony. His team in the their time had surveyed this part of the coliseum briefly before moving to the dungeon and gladiator room. As he ran, Lance used the images left in his mind to piece together the layout of their path to the balcony. It wouldn't be much farther now.  
  
A sudden muffled groan shuttered over the transmitter in the ears of the three men.  
  
"…rap…Lance, don't…leav…cony. The emp…moving…the balcony…"  
  
Lance knew it was Conway, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. The three archeologists kept running through the rooms after Kenshin.  
  
The battousai ran through the last room in a bloody rampage, painting the marble floor in crimson. Through the doorway, he can to a t-junction. The right of the corridor was lit with torches, illuminating the ornate carpeting and draperies in orange. The left headed toward the balcony. Kenshin could tell by the echoing roar of the crowd. Kenshin moved quickly to his left, coming to a sharp turn. Making the left, Kenshin ran up a short stairwell, where he could see daylight glaring off a wall twenty feet in front of him. That turn would be the corridor leading directly to the balcony. It was time to take care of the last opponents he needed to face before he and the others could escape.  
  
Kenshin made the turn. The opening ahead was almost blinding. Bright sunlight was much stronger to his eyes than the dim torches in the interior. But as his eyes adjusted, his eyes widened in confusion.  
  
The battousai stopped in his treks for the first time in the last five minutes. Before him was the balcony…and it was empty. There were no guards, nor was the emperor on his throne. Kenshin saw no women, and he couldn't see Conway over the side of the balcony. What was going on here?  
  
Though the balcony was empty, the massive crowd of spectators was still cheering loudly. Kenshin moved slowly toward the throne. As he passed it and approached the railing, he saw the full view of the circular arena. He nearly dropped his sword.  
  
Against the far wall, sitting on the sand, were the two women. Both were alive, but guarded by ten Roman soldiers with swords and shields. But they were not alone. Over a hundred armed soldiers stood in a semicircle, row upon row. Each man was toting swords and shields. In the center of the semi-circle was the general, smiling wickedly up at the small warrior on the balcony. At his feet was Conway, kneeling exhaustedly with his hands tied behind his back.  
  
As Kenshin narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, he could hear footsteps behind him. They were from Lance, Nick, and Mark. The three men slid to a halt, only be overwhelmed with confusion. After scanning the balcony for a few seconds, they finally realized what the battousai was staring at.  
  
Lance felt his knees weaken. The girls were on the arena floor, guarded by legion of soldiers. All his mind could process was getting to them. But how on earth could he or the others possibly get to them. And why are they all down in the arena? The crooked grin being glared back to him by the general answered him.  
  
They knew. Somehow they knew about the plan…but how? How on earth did they know? What was going on? 


	8. Reckoning

Lance stood motionless, his heart beating rapidly. Sweat began rolling down his face, stinging his eyes. The lump in his throat seemed to be trying to choke the life right out him. He could see Lisa, and Jackie, sitting against the far wall of the arena. How he desperately wanted to help her...but how? There were at least a hundred Roman soldiers standing between the four men on the balcony and the girls over a hundred and fifty yards away. The General, seemingly gloating in his cunningness, grinned at them as wide as he possibly could.  
  
Nick knew exactly how Lance felt. All he wanted was to get to Jackie, but he too knew that they were in trouble. There was no way anyone could -  
Kenshin leapt over the balcony.  
  
Lance, Nick, and Mark ran to the marble railing as the echoing cheer of the crowd erupted in volume. Lance gripped the marble before him tightly. Once again, this young boy was going to risk his life to help them. But, even with Kenshin's amazing strength and speed, this was a match up he had no chance of winning. What could he be thinking?  
Kenshin knew exactly what he was thinking. He saw something, something very familiar in the glaring stare of the man in the center of the arena. This General was no ordinary Roman soldier. As the battousai landed once again on the white sand of the Coliseum floor, he returned a stern glare to the man in front of the soldiers.  
  
The General, still with his cocky smile, crossed his arms and stared hard at the young boy now standing thirty yards away. Behind the swordsman, on the balcony, were the three he knew he had to kill. But in front of him...in front of him was the one that he wanted to kill.   
  
The two men watched each other carefully, as if to eye each other up. The jeering crowd slowly began to quiet its roar, preparing to hear the words from either warrior.  
Kenshin, after a long stare down, was the first to speak.  
  
"How?" Kenshin asked. "How did you know what we were planning?"  
  
The General portrayed a vague expression of confusion, and then uttered something in Greek.   
  
"What kind of speech is this?" came an electronic interpretation over the earpieces.  
  
Lance watched Kenshin carefully. He knew that the General couldn't understand what he was saying, so why talk to him at all? Nick and Mark moved closer to Lance, and then stopped when Kenshin spoke again.  
  
"I don't play games," said Kenshin. "Tell me how you knew?"  
  
Again, the General just stared with a look of confusion. Still, Kenshin persisted.  
  
"There is no point in this façade," said the battousai. "I know you can understand me."  
  
Lance blinked and shook his head.  
  
"What?" asked the professor.   
  
Every person from the future, whether on the balcony in the arena, was silent and listening intently. What Kenshin had said made no sense. There was no way a soldier of ancient Rome could ever understand modern English. What was the boy doing? Yet again, while everyone was staring in confusion at his acts, Kenshin knew his reasons.   
  
"Confused?" Kenshin asked.  
  
The General's grin started to fade.  
  
"It's your eyes," said Kenshin. "You can fake everything else, but the piercing glare of a hitokiri is impossible to hide."  
  
The General's grin was now completely gone. The three men on the balcony were listening intently now, still with confusion. With the fading afternoon sun still beating down on the white sand, the General squinted at the young warrior who had spoken to him. The General sighed heavily, and removed his helmet. The red plume waved in the slight breeze flowing through the arena. But as the General stared, his grin returned. With a deliberate slowness, he reached up to his ear.   
  
Lance's eyes widened. The General tapped his ear, and spoke.  
  
"Impressive," came a clear English response!  
  
The three men on the balcony took a step back. They couldn't believe it. A Roman soldier spoke English?  
  
"What the?" Nick asked. "He spoke English!"  
  
"Of course I did," came the General's voice over the earpiece.   
  
Lance immediately recognized a Russian accent. This man was one of Whitely's thugs, no doubt about it. But why was he here?  
  
"I've been waiting for your group to show up for a very long time now," said the General.   
  
The three archeologists on the balcony shifted with tension. This guy not only knew they were coming, but he was probably put here to make sure the team never could make it back. That way Whitely could get off without any witnesses.  
  
"Who are you?" Lance asked.  
  
The General stood still for a moment, and then grinned at them.  
  
"Since none of you will be leaving this arena alive, let alone the time period," said the General, "I guess it'll do no harm. My name is Kale Mystovich. Mr. Whitely was in need of my services and, though the risks are high, the job is quite invigorating."  
  
Kenshin had observed Mystovich's expressions.  
  
"Let me take a guess as to why he would need you," said Kenshin.  
  
"Oh?" Mystovich laughed. "Go ahead. Amuse me."  
  
"Whoever your employer is," said Kenshin, "he desperately needed someone to keep things in order until his plans could take place. He couldn't use whatever weapons he had in the future, or those here in the past would likely be so disrupted, that the tournament being held right now would never take place. So that's why he needed someone skilled in swordsmanship. That person could likely infiltrate the Roman ranks and control the flow of the tournament, both ensuring the outcome, and providing him with inside information on the prize money. That's why he hired you."  
  
Mystovich grinned and nodded in approval.  
  
"Very good!" Mystovich said. "Your powers of observation are quite good -"  
  
"I'm not through yet," Kenshin interrupted. Mystovich didn't appreciate the young boy's disrespect, but let him continue. "Your skill, it is one that takes after that of Japanese swordsmanship, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, it does," confirmed Mystovich.  
  
"Then," continued Kenshin, "you're eyes speak more of your budo than you think. You've studied a very lethal style, one which I will soon have to face again when I return to my time."  
  
Lance listened intently, but was unsure about what he was hearing. He had studied Japan's samurai and their ways before, but what style was he talking about?  
  
Kenshin stepped forward.  
  
"You've studied from the descendants," Kenshin said, " of the Shinsen Gumi."  
  
The arena was now silent, including the men on the balcony. For what seemed like an eternity, the two swordsmen on the arena floor stood motionless, staring at each other. Finally, Mystovich broke the silence and smirked.  
  
"I have to be honest," said Mystovich. "You four never ceased to amaze me. I never thought you'd get this far..." he sneered. "...even with the Battousai's help."  
  
"What!" Lance shouted. "How do you know about Kenshin?"  
  
Mystovich focused his piercing glare at the young boy who was facing him.  
  
"Every swordsman knows about him," said Mystovich. "When I studied under my master years ago, it was a story told to me ever day. I had heard so much about this 'demon' that it made me sick. Every time that stupid old man talked about it, I wanted rip his throat out..." Mystovich smiled wickedly.  
  
"So you did," said Kenshin. "You learned all you needed and then turned on your own master. You have no honor."  
  
"What can I say?" Shrugged Mystovich. "I couldn't stand him. He went on about his precious Ack, Suke, Zan like it was some sort of religion." He sneered. "It's nonsense."  
  
Kenshin stared at the man for a moment and then responded.  
  
"You may have studied the fighting technique of the Shinsen Gumi, but you're definitely not one of them. When they fought, they never used such devilish means to procure an advantage...and they at least fought with honor."  
  
"Honor?" Mystovich yelled. "You keep speaking to me about honor. I don't particularly care for it."   
  
He motioned with his hand to someone standing far behind him. The three men on the balcony watched as a man in robes emerged from the semicircle of soldiers. He looked very much like the priests they had seen in the temple yesterday. Mystovich held out his hand as if waiting for the priest to give him something. Lance's eyes widened when he saw the priest pull a sheathed katana from under his robes and hand it to Mystovich.  
Kenshin eyed it carefully.  
  
"You don't know who this man is do you?" asked Mystovich. "This, my precious archeologists, is Quintus."  
  
"What?" Nick blurted. "That's Quintus? But he was supposed -"  
  
"To be helping you?" Mystovich mused. "Fools. He's been working for me since I first became a soldier. How else do you think we managed to capture you?"  
  
Lance stood with rising anger. Mystovich had to have been right. The priest had told Lisa that it was safe to stay in the temple. He was probably watching the entire time while they were in there trying to find her. That's how the soldiers knew where to find them.   
  
"But now," Mystovich conceded. "I believe he's outlived his usefulness."  
  
The others watched in horror as the crazed mercenary drew his blade and ran it through the heart of the priest. The old man gasped spurts of blood before losing consciousness and falling to the ground. Immediately, Mystovich sheathed his blade and shouted something in Greek to the Romans around him. The translator gave a belated translation.  
  
"People of Rome," Mystovich had said. "This priest was in league with the spies, and they too will share his fate!"  
  
The coliseum erupted in cheers and shouts. Kenshin watched in an ever-steady gaze as Mystovich turned back to face him. Even by just looking at him, Kenshin could see that this man was certainly dangerous foe. The battle that would surely befall him wouldn't be like the others. This one knew how to fight. 


	9. Deathmatch

The arena was erupting with shouts and cheers. All around the coliseum, spectators were standing to their feat, anticipating another match. Indeed there would be.  
  
The formation of Roman soldiers that were standing in the arena was now widening, the men backing themselves to the arena's circular wall. Bright sunlight glared off of their armor, forcing the nervous men on the balcony to squint. If the sight of the soldiers wasn't frightening enough, they could also see the two girls, both heavily guarded against the opposite arena wall. Even at such a distance, the terror in their eyes was clear. Conway was being pushed towards the wall to join them. The ex-marine's body was badly beaten, and he nearly collapsed under the jolts coming from the soldiers behind him.  
  
Lance grimaced at the sight.all he cared about right now was getting to the woman he loved, and to his friends.but he couldn't. All he could do was put his faith in God and trust the boy in the arena below him.  
  
Standing with quiet confidence, Kenshin kept his stare fixed on the man called Mystovich. He knew that words would do no good here. The only thing left to do was fight. Kenshin moved his left hand to the neck of his sheath and gripped it tightly. He'd have to kill again.  
  
Kale Mystovich certainly was through with words. He wanted this battle so bad he could taste it. With a grim satisfaction, he slid his sheath behind his leather belt. Wasting no time, he gripped the hilt firmly, glaring hard at the battousai waiting for him.  
  
Kenshin readied himself as well. He stepped forward into the familiar battle stance, his right hand resting readily above the hilt of his katana. With a focused determination, Kenshin stared at his opponent.  
  
From the balcony, the three men from the future watched nervously. The stare down that was taking place below them seemed to go on forever. Lance wiped his forehead, taking in the frightening scene and hoping beyond hope that Kenshin would pull through.  
  
The jeering crowd suddenly hushed. The two swordsmen had disappeared in swirling clouds of dust and dirt.  
  
Steel collided with steel as the two attacks met. A spark flew as Kenshin pushed hard against the other man's blade. His opponent was incredibly strong. The young samurai found himself struggling to hold his ground. Behind the two warring blades of steel, Mystovich glared back with a wicked grin. The Russian mercenary pushed Kenshin backwards, and then charged him at full speed.  
  
Kenshin braced himself and blocked the attack. Once his opponent's momentum had been stopped, Kenshin pivoted on his left foot and spun his body around. He swung his blade with as much force as he could muster, but found his attack blocked by the general's katana. His opponent, despite being weighed down by armor, was fast.very fast. Kenshin barely had time to readjust his footing before he had to parry a swipe from his foe's blade.  
  
Mystovich didn't need to readjust anything. He continued his fury of attacks, forcing the smaller fighter to use up all of his strength just to keep from getting skewered. This was the legendary battousai? He snickered as he continued his assault.  
  
Lance looked down on the fight anxiously. The two samurai were moving at insane speeds. Even from the balcony, the match was hard to follow. But despite the speed of the two fighters, Lance found a lump forming in his throat. Kenshin was having a hard time with this one.  
  
Indeed Kenshin was having difficulty, but he knew why. He'd gotten so used to the lethargic Roman soldiers that he'd unknowingly dropped his guard. Fighting a real hitokiri in such a state was not a good idea. Determined to regain his focus, Kenshin began to gradually give more attention to his opponent's actions, and emotions.  
  
Kenshin blocked an overhead attack from Mystovich, leaving his opponent's midsection wide open. A swift kick to the breastplate, and the large samurai was stumbling backwards. This gave Kenshin time to charge him with blinding speed. Mystovich barely managed to get his blade in front of him in time. Crack! The two blades met with great force, erupting yet another cloud of dust. It rippled away from them, leaving the two samurai once again in a battle of strength.  
  
Mystovich found himself grimacing. The battousai was now living up to his reputation. Still, he loved the challenge, and the thought of claiming the trophy of the strongest fueled his desire to kill.  
  
The Russian mercenary pushed Kenshin back slightly, and then jumped backwards by a few yards. The two samurai stared each other down for another second before they both lunged forward again. Attack after attack came from both men, sending up clouds of dust as they battled around the arena. Kenshin blocked a horizontal swipe, and then gave back one of his own.  
  
Mystovich blocked it and tried a direct thrust. His attack hit thin air as Kenshin spun around the blade. He continued his movement, trying hard to connect with the other man's back. But Mystovich again proved his quickness, as he pulled his sword over his head and blocked the attack with his blade. Before the battousai could move, Mystovich spun his right leg around and drove his boot hard into the young boy's chest.  
  
Kenshin landed on his back, pain shooting up his spine. The blow had knocked the wind out of him, making it hard to breathe. Even on the ground however, Kenshin could see the smirk on his opponent's face.  
  
"By the way," said Mystovich. "I'm a master of kempo as well."  
  
With the air returning to him and the pain subsiding, Kenshin stood to his feet. His stare was still one of determination.  
  
"I've noticed," Kenshin said.  
  
From atop the balcony, Lance, Nick, and Mark all watched the battle with apprehension. The outcome of this match was uncertain, which meant the future was uncertain. Whether they lived or died depended on the young boy in that arena. Lance looked over toward the girls. They weren't being harmed, but the soldiers keeping them cowering against the wall were certainly frightening. He'd never be able to rescue them on his own. He needed Kenshin's help. With more prayer, he turned back to the two men in the arena.  
  
"Come on, Kenshin", Lance whispered to himself.  
  
Kenshin, as if hearing those words, disappeared. He moved at such speed that only Mystovich saw the attack coming.but it wasn't a normal strike. A battle cry resonated from the charging battousai.  
  
"Do-ryu-sen!!!"  
  
Kenshin swung his blade upward from the ground, sending a line of exploding dirt towards the large samurai. The blow struck Mystovich with extreme force, sending him tumbling to the ground. The mercenary rolled backward several times before flipping and landing on his feet.  
  
With his sword still held high, Kenshin watched as his opponent righted himself. To withstand such an attack meant that the man must have incredible strength and stamina. This fight was turning into one of the toughest he'd ever had. Suddenly Kenshin's eyes widened. Mystovich had stepped into a familiar stance.  
  
The Russian mercenary deepened his stance, leaning heavily on his back foot. With a crooked smile, he held his sword tightly and raised it high. The blade came up to his head, and then pointed straight at Kenshin. With his free arm, Mystovich extended his hand to guide the tip of his blade as he eyed up the battousai. This was the infamous attack that his budo was famous for.and it was unbeatable.  
  
"My turn," shouted Mystovich.  
  
The mercenary launched forward with godlike speed, erupting a blaze of dirt and dust behind him. Kenshin stared hard, knowing that the attack was coming insanely fast. He swung his blade hard and managed to deflect the sword of his opponent. The feeling of success soon left as a spinning kick drove the boy backwards and to the ground. More pain ran throughout Kenshin's body as he clutched his sword. From behind him, he could hear laughter.  
  
"That my friend," the mercenary explained with a sinister grin, "is my favorite attack - the gatotsu. Even if the enemy blocks the sword, their body is left completely open. You can't beat it, Battousai."  
  
Kenshin exhaled, freeing his lungs once more. He ignored his pain and stood to his feet again, only to see the Russian backing up. His foe was preparing for another attack. Kenshin had heard of this technique, and knew that his opponent was right. It was nearly impossible to avoid.nearly. With his sword held firmly, Kenshin again prepared for the onslaught.  
  
This time, however, Mystovich's stance was slightly different. By attacking with the blade at a different angle, the timing of the battousai's attempt to dodge it would be thrown off. He'd get it this time. Mystovich disappeared.  
  
Again, the arena floor billowed forth in the wake of the charging mercenary. His powerful leg muscles propelled him almost instantly to the waiting boy.  
  
Kenshin caught the gleam of the sun from the blade of the katana. It was at a different angle than before, slightly elevated at the hands. The attack would come for the midsection. It came sooner than expected, and Kenshin had to use all of his speed and strength to parry the blade. Again, a strong foot drove Kenshin into the air. The young warrior tumbled quickly backwards, and then righted himself by flipping onto his feet. He felt excruciating pain in his chest, and blood was now dripping from his mouth. But Kenshin had not lost his determined stare.  
  
The Russian had once again returned to the center of the ring. His wicked grin portrayed his arrogant pride. To Kenshin, he was an ignorant fool. The way of the samurai was not to fight or kill for pride or glory. It was to protect the people, and the way of life in which they lived. This man before him wanted nothing but blood. If he won, then the men on the balcony, and the girls being held prisoner, would be slain. They were counted on him, and he would not fail them.  
  
Time stood still as Kenshin saw Mystovich prepare for yet another version of this infamous attack. Kenshin's chest was screaming in pain.but not because of any physical injury. He saw the two women being held captive against the far wall. They reminded him.reminded him of her. The pain he felt from that loss was one he would not let Lance go through. He would not lose this fight.  
  
Mystovich shot forward with a speed much faster than the previous attacks. The arena shook from his powerful assault. With a battle shout from hell, he lunged his sword right at the chest of the battousai..  
  
Kenshin had disappeared completely.  
  
The large samurai gripped his sword tightly with both hands. Quickly, he spun around in all directions, searching wildly for the prey that had eluded him. The sun hit the white sand, forcing him to squint. Murmurs and cries echoed from the spectators in the stands, but Mystovich saw nothing. He frantically turned this way and that. Where had the boy gone?  
  
Kenshin stared at his opponent. Gripping his sword tightly and holding it high above his head, the battousai tightened his determined visage and prepared himself.  
  
The mercenary abruptly stopped moving. He felt a shadow. With surprised fright, Mystovich turned his gaze straight up into the sky to see -  
  
A silhouette of fierce warrior, his arms raised high, muscles tightened with rage. A deafening roar came from the descending reaper.  
  
"RYU-TSUI-SEN!!!!!"  
  
Mystovich brought his sword up quickly to block the incoming attack, only to hear the steel blade crack and shatter. A sharp pain pinged in his scalp.and then all became black.  
  
Kenshin drove his blade downward with all his might. The steel screeched to a halt as it sliced into the arena floor. When the motion had stopped, Kenshin remained perfectly still. In front of him was Mystovich, still in a blocking position.  
  
A stream of blood trickled down from the large man's forehead. Slowly, a long slit appeared down the front of his nose. The lips and chin began to separate. The breastplate snapped in half and fell to the ground as blood burst forth from the separating torso. Soon the left and right sides of Mystovich's body were being pulled away from each other, spilling blood and organs onto the red sand. The two halves of bloody flesh hit the arena floor with a thud.and then all became silent.  
  
With a sickening disgust, Kenshin turned away from the gruesome sight. The horror of killing with such brutality nearly overcame him. Breathing heavily now, Kenshin trudged around the mutilated corpse and focused his gaze on the many soldiers that were standing in front of the three prisoners. To his surprise, they were all stepped to the side, parting in the middle to allow the boy free access to the prisoners.  
  
Kenshin heard the three men behind him as they all dropped from the balcony. Mark hand to turn away from the pile of gore before him, but Lance and Nick were both running to catch up with Kenshin. Once all four men were together, they began walking toward Conway and the girls. Though the most powerful foe was defeated, there were still over a hundred Roman soldiers to think about.  
  
But Kenshin saw something in their eyes.respect. Whether it was out of fear, or because he had proven himself the greatest warrior, they were not going to attack him. Perhaps they did have honor after all. He pondered these thoughts as the four men continued towards the three relieved prisoners. 


End file.
